


Literature  [Zarry Stylik AU]

by kaleidoscopecait



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d, BoyxBoy, M/M, Poetry, bottomHarry, harrystyles, topzayn, zaynmalik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 68,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopecait/pseuds/kaleidoscopecait
Summary: Harry hates his English lit teacher but grows quite fond of poetry





	1. Chapter 1

sorry if i

i'm sorry if i  
show up after the late bell  
or doodle during lectures  
i'm sorry if i   
hide away how i feel  
and throw crumpled sheets  
of notebook paper   
in the waste basket  
from the back of the room  
i throw away a lot of things  
i'm sorry if i   
throw away my talent  
i throw away myself  
that's just my fucking life  
i'm sorry if i  
flick through pages of the anthology  
in the dark of night  
when my mind is   
clouded with fears  
skimming for sad poems   
i crave the comfort of words  
i'm sorry if i  
let these feelings consume me  
i feel like i'm suffocating  
and drowning in these sorrows  
i'm sorry if i  
put on a facade   
and pretend to be   
someone i'm not  
you read me   
like a well worn book  
but i guess your eyes  
can capture  
metaphors and allegories  
and fake smiles   
when you jot   
on my papers  
see me after class


	2. pocket full of possibilities

"Harry," he sighs.

maybe he is  
just as disappointed   
in me  
as i am

"You can't just copy and paste from the internet. That's academic dishonesty. In uni that would get you thrown out."

a lot of things  
are dishonest  
especially people  
what's one more  
dishonest thought

"I didn't have time to work on the paper."

"Getting shit faced wasted isn't a valid excuse. M'sorry."

getting wasted   
is just a way  
to ignore the pain  
of wasting away

"Listen, I can't fucking fail this class."

"Then put in a little more effort. You're smart Harry but it isn't reflected in your work."

"What in the hell do you suggest I do?" I fold my arms over my chest and huff, annoyed with him wasting my time.

w  
a  
s  
t  
i  
n  
g

"Geez I don't know, maybe write something that comes from your own brain." He taps gently on the side of my head. "Anything up there?"

"Hilarious," I sneer. "This is ridiculous. My girlfriend is waiting on me."

"Life is one big waiting game. Perhaps, you should learn how to be patient."

Each tick of the clock is one march closer to death. I don't have all the time in the world. Even when I want it to stop it doesn't.

Tick tick.

hours are scars  
that burn into days  
and become searing months  
my body aches  
with each passing year

The gears keep churning in my mind.

"I'm giving you an opportunity to redo the assignment. It's the same prompt but you'll have to actually read the book this time. I know what Spark Notes is, I wasn't born yesterday."

"Seriously?"

"I don't usually do this thing but you have potential. You're a pocket full of possibilities. Please just do the assigned reading and follow the rubric guidelines."

"Thanks," I mutter.

He flashes a smile before writing something down in his notebook. He glances up at me for a second and my cheeks flush.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow, correct?"

"Uh yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid today. At least wait until Friday night to party. I would prefer you not show up to my class hungover."

"Whatever."

"Check the attitude Styles," he calls out as I pivot on my heel and head on the door. I chuckle to myself and run into Louis in the library.

"Hey Haz what took you so long?"

"Mr. Malik," I grit. "The prick kept me late after class."

He arches his brows in amusement and I elbow his side.

"Not like that you idiot," I have to redo that assignment."

"What's going on?" Liam drapes his arm around my neck protectively as my fingers skim over torn spines on the shelf.

"Harry is pissed he had to stay late in Lit. Apparently be failed his last essay," he rolls his eyes sassily.

"I'll help you," Liam offers.

"I would appreciate that."

"I'm not writing it for you though."

"No shit."

"What's wrong with you? Lighten up."

Check that attitude Styles.

"Sorry, I just hate the bloke. He tries too hard to act cool and relatable. I want to tell him to piss off."

"I enjoy his class. Besides, he's really hot."

Louis hums in agreement and smirks. "I would totally bang him. How old do you think he is?"

"Why should I care?"

"Probably like twenty-five," Liam responds. "Pretty young if you ask me. To be honest I'm surprised he's single. He's hilarious."

"What are ye guys talking about?" Niall plops his backpack down beside Louis, grinning from ear to ear.

"How sexy Mr. Malik is."

"He's funny too, always has me rolling."

"Everything makes you laugh," I scoff. "It isn't like it's hard."

"Maybe so but he's witty as hell and he is almost as sarcastic as Louis."

"Key word almost," Lou clarifies.

"I get it, he's your favorite teacher. Good for you. I hate the guy."

"Because he calls you out on your shit?" Niall laughs as Louis gives a satisfied grin.

"Whatever Louis. I've gotta go. Sam is waiting up on me."

...

"Hey baby," she slinks her arm around my waist, the strong scent of her perfume wafting through the air.

the snake  
slithers  
and hisses  
before coiling around  
the unsuspecting  
to never let go

"Miss me?"

"Always," I smile into a kiss and her mouth parts, granting my tongue entrance.

She pulls away frowning and I cup the side of her face. "What's wrong babe?"

"You promised you'd be here forever ago," she pouts.

"I'll make it up to you," I wink. She giggles and laces her fingers with mine. "Wanna go to my place?"

"Sounds nice." She tilts her head, her eyes glimmering. "Sounds tempting."

"Don't tease," my lips graze over her exposed neck and she lets out a moan as I suck, leaving a little bruise. "Had to mark my territory." My eyes scan over her body, suddenly appalled. "Did you wear that all day?"

"Harry," she whines. "I like this dress."

"It's too damn tight. Why would you wear that to school? Those perky breasts are mine, you don't need to display them to hungry eyes."

"God Harry, it isn't a big deal. You're being so controlling!"

"Are you fucking joking? I'm trying to look out for you. That dress is an invitation for assault."

"So you're calling me a slut?"

My eyes widen in shock and my fingers slip out of her grasp. "You're putting words in my mouth. Did I fucking say that Sam?"

"You didn't have to," she remarks coldly.

"Unbelievable."

"Where were you Harry?"

"I had to talk to a teacher."

partial truths  
are the truth  
nonetheless

"Right," she clicks her younger as I fumble for my keys and unlock the car. She slides into the passenger seat, her mouth drawn into a frown. "You're always full of excuses."

"You don't see me flirting with other people at parties either."

"I was drunk Harry, give it a rest. You know I want you. Come on. You were my first. I gave you everything."

"Sex isn't everything. When is the last time we went out on a proper date and actually talked?" My fingers tangle in my curls.

"You spend all your money on alcohol."

"Oh that's a low blow, considering you always drink it."

"Sometimes I need it," she says defensively.

"So do I," I drum the steering wheel, my jaw set in a tight line.

"I think you need something else."

"Do I? And would that be?"

"My body under yours."

"Fuck yes, keep talking."

her words fill my ears  
but i hear nothing  
my mind is clouded  
i hate that my thoughts  
wander to first period  
to fast moving lips  
and cursive on the board  
to discussions about  
shakespeare   
and unrequited love   
it isn't like i care  
i doze off   
half the time  
but you call on me  
a smile splaying   
on your face  
and i want to answer  
so badly  
but you know   
i haven't been   
paying attention  
it's a wicked thing to do  
so i shrug  
disinterested   
and someone else   
gives the response  
you wanted to hear   
her words fill my ears  
but i hear nothing


	3. i blew out the candle in my soul

*mature content

He said in class yesterday

some people are two  
sentences written   
several pages apart  
supposed to be   
read together

We were learning about alliteration but I think his example did much more than display alliteration. It touched me on the inside. His eyes flicked over mine for just a second and I pretended that example was hand crafted just for me.

i never wanted to  
push everyone away  
i never meant to   
become a recluse  
a spider trapped  
in a corner web  
they have no idea  
how alone   
i am  
inside my own skin

So I touch her skin. I've always been eager to explore new things, to discover new worlds and test out new words on the tip of my tongue.

I grin in the dimly lit room as she feels me up. I brush against her thigh and a whimper falls from her lips and my neck sucks at her neck and the delicate skin of her collar bone.

skin on skin  
but we're oceans apart  
we have never let our  
heartbeats have  
a conversation

It's just a frenzied rush. I want to be filled with passion, up to the brink.

Her hands travel to my belt that hold my jeans up on my milk white hips. The white band of my heather gray Calvin Klein boxers peek out above the dark wash denim. They soon graze the floor and I breathily tell her she's beautiful. 

My fingers easily unclasp her lacy bra and her fingers tangle in my hair. She tugs at some bottom strands causing a main to escape my lips. It starts as a low rumble in the back of my throat but bubbles up. I pull her into me put out bodies don't quite mold together perfectly. It's like we're a puzzle that's missing a piece.

I ignore the discrepancy as my lips press against hers. Her cold hands grab at my length, making my body shudder.

I don't know if it it's from the coldness of her touch or the coldness I feel pressed up against her.

I ignore that too and pull her to the edge of the bed, kneeling down so my head is positioned where it needs to be, my wispy curls tickling her thighs.

I was so eager to unzip that dress and ease it off of her. It wasn't even because I wanted her, so much I hated how cheap it made her look.

Her hands clench around the covers as my mouth works inside her, my tongue flicking over her pink folds. She tangles her fingers in my hair as I hit her clit and she clamps her hand over her mouth. My hands rub up and down her thighs as my mouth remains in place. Her back arches up off the bed and I lift my head, my eyes meeting hers. I stop suddenly to join her on the bed, my knees on either side of her. Her fingers roam over my back and my shoulders, resting on the nape of my neck.

My hand moves down to her sensitive spot again, my fingers working diligently. She gasps as my lips suck at her neck and her eyes squeeze shut. My middle finger enters and curls up, hitting a spot that sends shockwaves through her body.

i felt tired  
all of a sudden  
as if  
the world   
had drained me  
of everything i had

"Harry please," she begs.

I pull away before she reaches her climax and kiss her, biting her bottom lip. I rip open a condom package and shudder at the thought of going bare and the terror of getting Sam pregnant.

My hands are placed on either side of her head, my body hovering above her and teasing.

With Sam I'm in control.

That's something I struggle to feel.

Everything slips through my fingers. 

I thrust in and her legs wrapping around my lower back, pushing me deeper inside. My hips rock back and forth, the faint sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. Her hands move to my back, her nails scratching at my flesh.

I hit her spot and she whimpers, her fingers lazily pushing back the sweaty curls draped across my forehead. My mouth moves to her nipples, sucking and nipping at her hardened buds. My tongue traces circles around the swollen skin.

She reaches her peak, her toes splaying and curling and goosebumps rising on her arms as she screams out my name. I continue to thrust into her throbbing center, waiting for that same amount of pleasure to overwhelm me. I want my orgasm to rip through me and leave my brain foggy.

I envy the way her lips part as a wave of arousal comes her.

Several seconds later I release into her, feeling nothing but numbness.

losing my spark  
like a flickering flame  
i felt nothing  
even when I came

...

"You're early," he smiles.

"I uh...wanted to turn this in."

I feel a warmth spread through my cheeks as my fingers brush against his. His eyes skim over the paper, taking in every syllable.

Something flickers within them, the warm amber igniting something within me.

"This is really good Harry. I'm impressed."

"Thank you," I mutter. "What are we talking about today?"

"Why does it matter? Are you planning on skipping?"

"No I'm just curious."

"You're always curious, aren't you?" I smile and he goes back to writing something in his notebook.

"You're not going to answer?"

"Guess you'll have to find out. Must be something about the green eyes."

"What?"

"People with green eyes tend to be more mischievous."

Then beautiful words tumble from his lips.

"a sharp blade of   
emerald green grass  
swaying in  
the summer breeze"

My gaze falls to the tile floor as I shuffle my feet, suddenly nervous. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I curse myself for feeling this way.

"Now they're hidden under your lashes. Why are you hiding them?"

"I hide a lot of things," I whisper.

"Do you really Harry, or do you just think they're hidden?"

things i try  
to tuck away  
but he never misses  
a beat


	4. i will wade out

"What is e.e. cummings trying to get at here?"

Some guys snicker at the poet's last name while I read the poem over and over until I feel it inside my bones

i will wade out  
e.e. cummings

"i will wade out  
till my thighs are  
steeped in  
burning flowers  
I will take the sun in my mouth  
and leap into the ripe air  
Alive   
with closed eyes  
to dash against darkness  
in the sleeping curves of my body   
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery  
with chasteness of sea-girls  
Will i complete the mystery  
of my flesh  
I will rise   
After a thousand years  
lipping  
flowers  
And set my teeth in the  
silver of the moon"

The room is eerily silent but I find power within myself to speak up.

"The verbs imply movement. The poem is breathing, it's alive and vibrant. He references parts of the body...real tangible things that you can touch that are juxtaposed with the personification of nature. It's both physical and spiritual but he blends it so seamlessly. Maybe it's some sort of inner awakening or unity between body and spirit. It isn't overtly sexual or anything but it's sensual as hell."

It's almost as if the rest of the room has evaporated. There are no sounds but the rustling of papers and shocked stares sent my way. I don't care. It can all melt away because Mr. Malik runs his tongue along his bottom bottom lip, anxious for more and asks:

"How so?"

"In sleeping curves of my body, shall enter fingers of smooth mastery...that illustrates penetration but then he describes the fingers as being chaste. It's sort of like he's undergoing some transformation that goes way beyond sex."

"Precisely. There's a balance between purity and sensuality. It's kind of like a balance between light and dark. The reader is given power of the mind, body and soul. By reading this we embrace nature and feel a sense of rebirth. I have a little assignment for you guys. Write a short poem about how this poem made you feel. If you still can't fully grasp the poem don't worry, just write anything that came to mind when you read it. I won't test you over this."

People begin scribbling away while I ponder for a moment.

"There is one other e.e. cummings poem I want to discuss. Turn to There Is A in the anthology and we'll talk through it."

There Is A  
e.e. cummings

"there is a  
moon sole  
in the blue  
night

amorous of waters  
tremulous,  
blinded with silence the  
undulous heaven yearns where

in tense starlessness  
anoint with ardor  
the yellow lover

stands in the dumb dark  
svelte  
and  
urgent

(again  
love i slowly  
gather  
of thy languorous mouth the

thrilling   
flower)"

As he examines the poem I think about what I could possibly write in response to this one but my mind draws a blank.

"You don't have to respond to this one."

I breathe a sigh of relief as a girl's hand shoots up on the other side of the room. She bats her eyelashes and draws out her words agonizingly slow.

"Mr. Malik, can you share something poetic that you have written?"

I roll my eyes, my pencil pressing firmly against my paper. The lead breaks and rolls off the edge of my desk onto the unforgiving floor.

"Love involves falling  
and i'm deathly afraid  
of heights"

My heart shivers again and again as those words echo through my mind.

The bell rings and I shove my stuff into my backpack hurriedly. I want to bolt out of the room but he smiles at me and my feet are plastered to the floor.

"Where did that come from?"

"What," I ask perplexed.

"The beautiful things you said in class."

My heart tumbles, flutters around in my chest and sings out an enchanting aria.

softly singing  
haunting melodies  
on an empty stage  
i don't expect   
anyone to listen  
but he hears me  
anyway

"From my heart."

I want to kick myself for saying something so idiotic but his response makes my breath hitch.

"Thank you for that."

"I like Rupi Kaur," I blurt out.

"Really? Mind sharing one of her poems with me, or is your girlfriend waiting?"

"you must have known  
you were wrong  
when your fingers   
were dipped inside me  
searching for honey that  
would not come for you"

He frowns, a line forming between his thick unruly brows. "Why did you choose that one?"

"E.E. Cummings didn't address forced intimacy. He talks about touch but not forced touch."

"Touch is a very special thing Harry. It's easy to touch someone but it's completely different to feel someone."

He chuckles, his fingers tangling in his soft raven black quiff. "That probably made no sense."

"No! That made complete sense," I give a dimpled grin.

"You haven't turned in today's assignment."

I hand it in and his eyes soften, crinkling at the corners.

feral ferocity  
to the tone

sleeping with  
a gentle grace  
i will take   
the sun in my mouth  
to burn the back of  
my throat

"I usually don't find myself at a loss for words but this is talent."

"Thank you," I murmur.

"Tell me something Harry, how do you have an A in Calculus and a D in my class? Is it really that miserable? I would like to think discussing literature is a lot less harmless than finding derivates and integrals."

A laugh bubbles out of me. "Truth is I think I'm starting to like this class."

"I'm glad to hear that," he smirks.

My feet trod to the door but his voice stops me once again.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the teacher would it?"

I give him the middle finger along with a carefree smile. "You wish."

...

"If anyone else wore glasses like that they'd look like a total nerd," Louis points out. "Instead all it made me do was develop a glasses kink."

"Oi," Liam slaps his upside the head. "Enough drooling over your teacher."

"Ow," Lou whines. "That isn't fair. You're the one that had a wet dream about him. You don't hear me talking about my fantasies."

Niall's eyes light up and he munches on some crisps. "Please, tell me more."

"Don't you dare," Liam warns.

"Do not threaten me," Louis retorts. "Mr. Malik had him bent over the table, isn't that right Liam?"

"Why did I even tell you," he groans.

"What did he say again...that you were a naughty boy?"

"Stop," his cheeks flush and Niall howls in laughter.

"Guys cut it out," I snap. "I don't care to hear about your sex lives."

"Speaking of which, how is Sam?"

"Fine I guess."

"Have you ever jacked off to a picture of her?"

"Louis!" I swat at his hand and he chuckles.

"What about phone sex?"

"You're impossible."

I groan as their perverted conversation wanders back to Mr. Malik.

"I mean come on, what other teacher is inked at this school? If you say you haven't thought about slipping your hands up under his shirt and feeling him you're lying."

"He's really fit," Niall notes. "Looks pretty toned."

"Hell," Louis adds. "He wore a fucking turtleneck one day and still gave me a boner."

soft fabric  
covering supple skin  
what i would do  
for just one touch  
to see you flinch   
and those veins   
in your neck  
as my lips   
etch patterns  
and my tongue   
makes you wet

"Harry, what are thinking about?"

"N-nothing," I stammer.

"You're blushing Haz."

"Just drop it, okay?"

a sliver of tan  
as you write  
on the board  
the smooth skin  
of your hip  
makes me want more  
if i can't concentrate  
it isn't because  
i don't care  
maybe the problem is  
i care too much

"What was with you answering in class today? Do you feel okay? Are you sick?"

He places his hand over my forehead and I laugh.

"I'm fine. I guess that poem just spoke to me."

"Did you see the way he looked at you?"

"What?"

My heart gets caught in my throat.

"It was like you hung the damn moon or something."

your smile  
encourages   
the stars   
to be strung up  
in the sky  
your hair  
midnight black  
it makes me   
wonder why  
you're so afraid   
of falling  
when you lift   
me up   
so high

"I guess I didn't notice."

The lie tastes so bitter on my tongue. Of course I noticed and it made my heart trill.

I don't like the effect he has on my eyes. I want to skip his class but I can never find the courage to do it. Instead, I show up get off from his words.


	5. thoughts on falling and autumn leaves

"So I said do me like a math problem, messy with a lot of hand." The douche and all his friends laugh, their eyes skirting over women's bodies. I swallow down bile and turn towards my girlfriend.

"Sam let's go."

"Harry, we haven't even played any fun games yet."

"You're already wasted," I frown. "We're going home."

He stomps her foot defensively, her hands glued to her hips. "No. I'm not going." Her tongue pokes of the side of her mouth like a child.

"Fine. Have it your way."

I stand up and brush off my jeans. My shirt is drenched because some fucker spilled his cheap beer all over me. Now I wreak and I feel nauseated.

"Where are you going?" She grapples for my hand but I knock it away.

"Anywhere but here."

"Don't blame me when I screw around with someone else."

My jaw clenches and my fists tighten as I whirl back around to face her. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," she hiccups. "Come on Harry, you can't really think I'm serious about y-you," she slurs. "I just wanted a good fuck but you aren't even good in bed anymore."

"Tell me you're lying."

"Nope," she giggles, tottering on her heels. She tugs down her skirt and it suddenly hits me.

I don't even care. Sam is a toxic person anyway.

I'm such an idiot for letting her use me. I thought I was the dominant one and now I'm reeling with the fact that I had never in control.

the puppet moves  
on its strings  
and dances  
with the flick  
of a wrist

...

"Did he ask where I was?"

"Nah, he probably just assumed you were hungover."

Great. That's what I want him to think of me.

"Shit. I've gotta go."

I leave my untouched food on the table and shove in my chair. It rams into the table and Liam gives me a look but doesn't press it. I know Niall will take care of the uneaten food.

My feet travel down the familiar hallway, stopping in front of his door. I rap lightly with my knuckles and he calls for me to come in. When I do he looks up at me, surprised, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

"What can I do for you Harry? Extra credit opportunities or something?"

Warm tears prick at my eyes and my throat feels tight. The words I try to say get trapped and feel constricted inside of me. I simply shake my head, my curls grazing against my neck.

"a sharp blade of  
emerald green grass  
wet with morning dew"

"I'll make up the assignment from class, I swear. I can get notes from Liam or-"

He waves me off. "I don't care about that Harry."

I suck in a breath and slump into the nearest chair. "I'm not in trouble?"

"I don't care if you come to class or not, it's your grade and your life. That doesn't concern me."

That stings like salt licking at a wound. He doesn't care if I show up or not.

"Oh," I reply stunned.

"That being said, I do care about my students' well-being. I'm by no means a counselor but you can always talk to me about stuff. I'm pretty chill about these kind of things."

"What kind of things?"

"Heartbreak," he says nonchalantly. It slips from his mouth like it's nothing. "Young love is a funny thing, isn't it?"

"I don't even think I could call it love."

"I see. Most relationships are temporary like the changing of leaves. I don't let that bring me down too much. The variety of hues when they fall from trees is just so beautiful. If leaves were always green or always brown fall wouldn't be nearly as rich in color and fall happens to be my favorite season."

"That's ironic," I posit.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're afraid of falling."

He's silent for a moment, his fingers tapping against his desk.

"I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"It's the fall that's thrilling, the feeling of weightlessness and lifting off the ground. It's just when gravity tugs at you and yanks you back down when you realize you were never really free at all."

"I get the feeling that you're talking about someone in particular. Could it be your ex girlfriend?" He smirks and I chuckle, suddenly feeling at ease.

"Wrong. Guess again."

"Oh damn," he plays along. "It was a total shot in the dark."

"Do you always spend lunch alone?"

"No, I usually go to the teacher's lounge but I had some grading to catch up on."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," his eyes glimmer with amusement.

"Okay, smart-ass. I have something to ask."

"I might have an answer."

God, I think sinking deeper. There's no denying it now, I'm developing feelings for my English Literature teacher.

"How do you know when it's real?"

"How should I know? I'm still single myself."

"Well haven't you been in love?"

"Sure. I've loved so deeply I lost touch with myself. Just a second," he flips through his notebook, his eyes landing on a particular page.

"nothing can   
keep you away  
not even those   
eleven shots  
of Vodka   
on a Wednesday night  
or even   
the thought of  
someone else   
holding my heart   
since you   
already shattered it  
with gentle hands"

"Why?"

His gaze meets mine and I get up from my chair, my hands gripping the edge of his desk so tightly my knuckles turn white.

"Why would someone make you feel that way?

"I asked myself that same question. I was restless, thinking about things I could have possibly done wrong, tearing myself apart."

"But they're the one that ripped your heart to shreds. They shattered it into a million pieces. You didn't need to cause more damage. What you needed was glue to piece everything back together."

"Or tape," he grins.

"Do you think she's happy now or does she know she fucked up?"

"He," he corrects softly.

"Huh?"

"He broke my heart."

Everything clicks into place and my heart pounds in my chest, the thud strumming through my eardrums.

"Sorry," I feel myself blush. "I didn't know-"

"Don't be. It rained for days after he cheated and I pretend the sky was grieving with me, mourning the loss of my hope."

"Do you mind reading more?"

"he convinced me to jump  
promising he'd catch me  
but as soon as i started to fall  
he was turning his back   
on that promise"

"I'm still afraid of swimming you know."

"Why?"

"Because he swam but I drowned."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It knocks the air right out of me and I desperately want to touch him.

"I'll share one with you."

"I'd like that a lot."

"she told me  
she was afraid  
of losing me  
but faced her fears  
when she walked away"

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"I'm not supposed to have a favorite student but obviously it's Liam."

I laugh and run my fingers through my messy curls.

"That's a good choice," I confirm. "Solid student."

"Yeah he is but do you know what I need on some days?"

"What?"

"Just a little bit of trouble," he sends a quick wink. It happens in an instant, so fast that I believe my eyesight is failing.

"Hmm," I tease. "I wonder who that could be."

"Please do me a favor and don't come to my class ever again." He tries to keep a straight face but fails and our laughter mingles in the air.

"Sorry I used to be so disrespectful."

"It's nothing," he assures. "You were only a slight pain in the ass."

"I still am," I beam proudly.

"Yes, you still are," he sighs.

"What are your plans this weekend?"

"That's none of your business."

"Sorry."

Stupid stupid stupid, my brain scolds.

"Harry, come to class tomorrow and I'll drop a hint."

"Really?"

"No."

"Fuck you too."

He chuckles as I leave, a smile spreading across my face.


	6. infinity times infinity

"Mr. Malik," a girl squeaks. "Why don't you like John Green?"

"It isn't that I don't respect him as an author, he deserves a lot of credit. There's literary merit in his works, he's just so predictable."

"As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."

"That isn't how people fall in love," I argue. "When you fall in love you plummet full speed and don't look back."

"My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations."

"That line strikes me so hard," she sniffles.

"There are two good lines from the whole book," I scoff.

"Do you care to share those with us?"

"The marks humans leave are too often scars" and "what a slut time is, she screws everybody."

He chuckles as he writes something on the board. The first thing I noticed when I walked into class today was him squinting at his computer screen without glasses on. It made me laugh because how can you forget your glasses?

The one word that sticks out to me on the board is infinity.

"If you can't tell, today we're going to discuss infinity as a theme. Some of you are probably asking so what? Who the hell cares about infinity in respect to literature? Frankly, I don't have an answer. We were supposed to discuss Emily Dickinson today but the woman is bat shit crazy and I don't like her poems. I'm the teacher so screw it. We're talking about forever."

Laughter erupts in the room as he doodles on the board. To be honest, he's quite skilled at art. He draws some planets and the moon, switching up the colors of the markers.

"Let's talk about the moon for a hot second. I love the moon. It's always so comforting and constant. Thoughts on the moon."

"Its cratered," someone points out.

"Fascinating observation," he replies sarcastically. "I'm looking for something a little more in depth."

"It never betrays you."

"What was that Styles?"

"Like you said, it stays up in the night sky illuminating even the darkest shadows. It wans and waxes but never changes form. I mean sometimes it's full and sometimes it looks like a fingernail-"

"A crescent," he smiles.

"Yeah that," I smirk. "When the sun abandons us the moon is quick to give us guidance."

"The sun doesn't abandon us," some girl chides. "The sun is way better than the moon. It makes your skin tan and highlights your hair."

"Um no, it causes cancer and burns up innocent flowers."

"Simmer down," he chortles. "I appreciate the enthusiasm but let's just agree that the sun and the moon balance each other out, yeah? There isn't one without the other. Light and dark, good and bad. You know how it goes."

"Why are we talking about this again?"

"Because I said so. I can give you an essay."

Everyone groans as he gives a lopsided grin.

"Since it's a Friday I'll hold off on that. I'm sure a lot of you have plans to read this weekend though, right?"

I roll my eyes at his stupid joke and he sends me a quick look as of to say I saw that. I shiver that he even picked up on it.

"Write something about infinity or the universe in general, I don't care actually. Just jot down something and put it on my desk. I'm not really feeling it today and I can't see shit."

People cheer and quickly slap some sentences on paper, rushing to get out early. Their faces are filled with joy and eagerness about parties and busy plans.

"You can leave too you know."

"What's the rush? We're literally talking about infinity. It isn't like I have plans."

"What did you write about today Harry?"

I hand him my notebook and his nose scrunches, his eyes narrowing to read my handwriting.

"You have very nice penmanship," he notes.

my body inhabits  
the ugliest planets  
but my mind wanders  
the universe

"Lovely, as always." His finger hovers over the corner of the page. "May I?"

"Of course."

He turns the page, his eyes straining to read every letter.

"What's this?"

"A song."

"I like it a lot."

"Sun by Sleeping At Last."

With golden string   
our universe was clothed in light  
Pulling at the seams,  
our barren world now brims with life  
that we may fall in love  
every time we open up our eyes,  
I guess space, and time,  
takes violent things, angry things   
and makes them kind  
Infinity times infinity times infinity times infinity  
Let there be light,  
let me be right

"I thought you preferred the moon."

"I do. It's easy to find solace in the darkness."

He hums in agreement and his knuckles graze across mine as he reaches to turn another page. It makes the hairs on my arm bristle. Electricity shoots through me and creeps up my chest. My heart swells and I pray he can't hear it pounding. I'm terrified of this feeling.

My heart hiccups and his eyes lock with mine. He hasn't moved his hand. Why hasn't he moved his damn hand? Am I sweating? Holy shit, I'm sweating like a sinner in church.

Now my heart climbs up my ribs like a ladder.

My spine feels tight as I sit up straighter in my chair. I keep waiting for him to break the silence.

"I'd very much like to see you in the moonlight, the light catching on your cheekbones, dabs of white on your Cupid's bow and the tip of your nose. But I'm torn Harry because the warmth of the sun on your skin also brings a pleasant image to my mind."

I study the sweep of his mouth and the softness in his caramel eyes and my heart clatters at it hits the ground.

"What happened to your glasses," I inquire.

"Broke them," he laughs.

"Ever heard of contacts?"

"I don't want to touch my eyeball. It creeps me out."

"Fair enough. Today's lesson was shit by the way."

"Mmhmm and what makes you think I care about your opinion?" My jaw snaps closed as I think of a savage remark.

"I'm your favorite student."

"You have a lot to learn Harry."

My thumb swipes over his hand and my heart betrays my brain as I breathe out "maybe you can teach me."

"I think you should go now Harry. Don't do anything too stupid this weekend and I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"

"Yeah," I mutter. "I hope you get some new glasses."

And I walk out like nothing happened between us.


	7. prescription drugs and poetry

"Harry come on, you have to go. This is the biggest party of the year."

I groan and pull the covers up over my head. "Let me just stay here and sleep until I die."

"Your forehead feels really hot," Liam frowns. "Looks like you can't go to the party anyway."

"I think I'm going to throw up."   
He drags me out of bed and rubs my back as I puke in the toilet. "Oh shit," I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve as sweat beads roll down my temples. "I spoke too soon. I am dying."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Louis laughs. "Liam and I are going to that party."

"Lou," Liam says softly. "Harry is really sick.

"Niall, can you stay here with him?"

"No way! I want to go just as much as you lads. Why am I stuck babysitting?"

"It's fine. I'm eighteen."

I brush my teeth until the toothpaste turns to foam and gargle some Listerine.

"I'll just go to the doctor and get some medication. It isn't a big deal."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Li, you heard him. Let's go," Louis whines and tugs at his wrist. He gives a sympathetic look as they leave the room.

"Sorry Har. I hope you get better soon."

"Thanks Niall. Don't have too much fun tonight."

"It won't be as fun without you."

I smile weakly and find the energy to pull on some sweatpants and an over-sized hoodie. I tug on a beanie, too exhausted to brush through my tangles and head out the door. I never wear sneakers and I can't remember the last time I wasn't wearing skinny jeans.

The flu. The fucking flu of all illnesses.

"Can you pick up your prescription at your regular pharmacy?"

"Yes," I sigh.

...

"Prescription for Harry Styles."

"That name sounds familiar." I turn around and freeze up, my body growing tense.

He looks so casual, in distressed jeans and a denim jacket. And he looks incredibly young, his baseball cap casting shadows over his face.

"Sorry you're sick on a Saturday and not on Tuesday or something. That way you could miss my class," he smiles and I shrug.

"No sassy remark? You must be really sick."

"Flu."

"Ewww get away from me," he jokes. I give him a cold look and he puts up his hands defensively. "Sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"My mum needs medication."

"Oh." My heart sinks to the bottom of my chest. I feel like utter shit now. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Being sick can make you grumpy."

"I'm always grumpy," I grumble. He chuckles and my heart does that stupid thing again where it skips a beat.

"You don't have to tell me. It's weird seeing you in baggy clothes."

"It's weird seeing you in a baseball cap."

"Touche," he smirks.

"You're wearing contacts," I state quite obviously. I want to face palm for being such an idiot.

"That I am. I guess they aren't so bad."

"When did you get your ears pierced?"

"I dunno, a long time ago. Why?"

"Should I get mine pierced?" He stares at me for a moment, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"Nope it wouldn't suit you, I think...what happened to your nose ring?"

"I took it out."

It's my turn to stare. I smile as I note the silver stud in his nose.

"When did you get that?"

"Last night. I was wasted." He clamps his hand over his mouth and I let my laughter escape. "Pretend I didn't just say that."

"It isn't like we're in school. It's cool."

He exhales, relieved as he pays for his mum's medication.

"What were you drinking?"

"Scotch."

"Half of my tattoos are the aftermath of too many vodka shots."

"Thanks for sharing that with me."

"My pleasure."

"I'm assuming you can't go to that party tonight."

"How do you know about that?"

"I'm not stupid."

"I guess I'm just going to get some rest."

"Did your friends ditch?"

I scuffle my feet and clear my throat, my voice coming out raspier and scratchier than usual.

"Yeah but I understand. They really wanted to go."

"M'sorry," he frowns. We continue walking and talking as we exit the pharmacy. I have no idea where he's going but I don't want to part ways just yet. "Do you want to get some soup? There's a cute little cafe around the block."

"I don't know if I can keep anything down," my cheeks flush.

"That's okay, it doesn't hurt to try."

That's how we end up sat across from each other in a cafe, talking about poetry and trivial things.

He orders two cups of chicken noodle soup and forces me to drink some water.

"I can't taste anything."

He just gives me a reassuring smile and continues moving his soft baby pink lips, explaining why poetry is an art form.

I suddenly feel cured of my illness and nod to every statement he says, agreeing that Rainer Maria Rilke is an underrated poet. In all honesty I haven't read a single piece by him but when he says he's brilliant, I believe him and hang on every word that drips out of his mouth.

Drip.

d  
r  
i  
p

Like sweet honey and nectar.

"Harry," the sudden change in tone pulls me out of my reverie. His brows knit together, his lips stretching into a straight line. "You're really pale."

His hand reaches for mine, which is clammy and gross at hell.

"Sorry I'm so sweaty."

He just smiles and encourages me to take my medicine.

"I'm chilling. It's fucking freezing."

"Okay, okay. Let's take you home."

He pays for the soup and slips his hand into mine. I'm trembling, my teeth clattering as the brisk air hits me. His arm loops around my neck, sudden warmth spreading across the nape of my neck. It travels down my back and makes me shiver, as it courses down my spine.

"You're totally gonna get sick."

"Maybe so," he mutters softly. "I guess that's a risk I'm willing to take."

So my English lit teacher walks me home, his fingers laced in mine. He doesn't even realize it, he just talks casually as we stroll down the sidewalk.

Maybe he doesn't notice but my heart picks up speed and I think I'm going to burst at the seams.

a cold heart   
offset by  
warm touch  
fissure in  
my bones  
my tender flesh  
melting away   
crimson cheeks  
flushed as  
your fingers  
entwine with mine

galaxies colliding  
there are stars  
in my eyes  
tender touch  
but somehow  
it is killing me

"This is my stop."

I fumble for my keys and manage to unlock the door.

My stomach churns and I stumble into the bathroom, lurching towards the toilet.

"Woah hey," my beanie falls to the floor but his fingers skate through my hair, holding my curls back.

A teacher keeping hair out of your face while you vomit is quite possibly the most awkward thing that can ever happen to you. Somehow though, it's deeply comforting.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry."

"For what?"

"This is disgusting."

He just shrugs and wets a wash cloth, dabbing the damp edge to the corner of my mouth.

"I've seen worse."

And he smiles.


	8. sugar packets and saccharine lies

"It was the soup," he frowns and pours a cuppa tea.

I note that he adds a packet of sugar to the strong brew and sips slowly, as if to savor the sweetness. I want to lick his lips but then again I just threw up and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate that.

I scrubbed my teeth and brushed so abrasively my gums starting bleeding. He told me it wasn't a big deal but I cringe at just the thought of it, that wretched bile and the stench it placed in my nostrils.

"I'm going to shower. Uh...make yourself comfortable. That sounded wrong but whatever."

"No it didn't," he laughs lightly. "Don't make this awkward Styles."

"Are we not on a first name basis?"

"I dunno, maybe." He smirks, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and I swear to God he's trying to kill me. This is slow torture. Agonizingly slow, like watching paint drip.

"Not like I care," I quickly add.

Oh but you do. You care so much it hurts. I'm not okay. Of course I won't tell anybody.

it isn't like  
they don't ask  
if i'm okay  
because they do  
they just don't  
really care

"Harry, are you alright?"

I pick up on two subtle things.

1) the actual concern in his voice  
2) that he quite obviously called me by my first name

"Never been better," I drone.

"Sarcasm is my thing."

"Really? Did you invent it smartass?"

He rolls his eyes but there's a keen softness behind it, something I've grown quite fond of.

"Take a shower already. You stink." He pinches his nose between his forefinger and thumb and I want to snatch it back and kiss the tip.

The warm water cascades down my back. I lather the shampoo in my curls, watching bubbles form and pop in mid-air.

When I get out my ringlets are drenched and droplets glide down my bare chest. I mutter a string of curse words for not putting a change of clothes in the bathroom. I knot the towel around my waist and peep out the bathroom.

He nearly chokes on his tea at the sight of me and a pink tint fans across my cheeks. "I thought I could make it to my room without running into you."

"Hey, it's fine."

Pretend you're not naked Harry. Just grip onto the towel for dear life.

Water drips from my hair onto the floor but I'm paralyzed as his eyes take me in.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"Harry, I-" he bites his lip bashfully and for a moment in time he isn't just my English teacher. He's someone I could spend hours talking to and sharing secrets with.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen but now he pales in comparison."

I'm not exactly following but then his hand caresses my cheek and it doesn't matter. He could say anything.

my body is like  
a well oiled machine  
made of moving parts  
my foot   
presses the brakes   
but i'm in   
full throttle   
i am nothing   
but metal  
and choose not to feel  
then when you  
crash into me  
i can't flip  
off the switch

"You're so unbelievably beautiful," he exhales, his thumbs swiping across my jaw. "It's such a curse."

"W-what?"

"I shouldn't have these feelings for a student."

A student. I'm nothing but one of his students.

"Take care of yourself, yeah? I have some papers to read over."

"Please," I beg.

He turns back around, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

"Just tell me you don't feel it too. Tell me there's nothing between us and I'll walk away. I promise you that much."

"It doesn't matter if there was something or not because I'm ending it here. Harry, you're a really good kid-"

Kid. A fucking kid. Can't risk losing my job. Too soon. Need time. Unsure of my feelings.

But it isn't him.

It's me.

I'm the problem. I'm the one that let myself sink so far. I knew this was a mistake. Why do I hate my heart? Why do I like the hurt?

"I understand. I wouldn't want to ruin anything for you, forget I even said anything. Just forget it. Forget about all of this."

"Harry," he says sternly.

"Don't treat me like a child. You know where the fucking door is."

I can't find the courage to look up as he leaves. It doesn't matter if he turned around or not.

A single tear slips down my face.

So damn stupid.

I let out an agitated groan as I tug on my hair and then it all just boils up. I scream.

Scream until I'm convinced my lungs have been forcibly ripped from my throat and my breaths are ragged. Until I'm fucking heaving. Everything hurts.

My head is hammering. My body is aching.

my

heart

is

s  
h  
a  
t  
t  
e  
r  
i  
n  
g

Fracturing into a million pieces and I keep stepping on the fragments, shredding the bottom of my feet until they're dipped in crimson.

I've been wrecked.

I've been four pints dizzy and smoking a joint until my brain is fuzzy dazed but I have never been this wrecked.

I look up into the mirror and firmly believe this is what devastation looks like. Red, tear brimmed eyes and raw lips.

...

When Monday rolls around I skip English class.

Liam says he didn't ask about me but something was clearly bothering him and he said fuck three times.

If I didn't hate him I'd laugh at the image of him sputtering out curse words in class.

But I do hate him.

"So are ye just gonna fail?"

"I don't know Niall but I am not going to that class. No way in hell."

"Did we miss something," Louis probes.

"Doesn't fucking matter. I signed up for an online class."

Liam knits his brows together, his mouth falling agape.

"You what?"

"That way I can still get credit for the course."

"Harry," Liam gestures to Sam who gives a small smile and flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Don't tell me things are back on. She flat out admitted to cheating on you."

"People make mistakes."

"This is total bullshit," Lou shouts. "You're not taking that whore back."

"Louis," I scold gently.

"How do you even know she's clean?"

"Screw this."

"Screw her," Niall chuckles.

"No, she screwed everyone."

...

It isn't like I planned on having sex in the janitors closet.

Her hand slides down her chest before cupping her wet sex. It runs down to her slit and she slides it in, her mouth falling open.

Her eyes close and she moans, her free hand rubbing small circles around her clit. She bites her bottom lip as her hand picks up speed but I knock it away.

"You aren't coming without me," I growl.

I grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips towards mine.

They crash together and I pretend they mold together.

I pretend to feel something.

But there's nothing.

Nothing.

n  
o  
t  
h  
i  
n  
g.

Thoughts of him swirl in my mind and his tender

t  
e  
n  
d  
e  
r

touch.

So I moan against her lips, my member throbbing.

My pulse quickens and I feel so giddy.

You're so unbelievably beautiful.

I grow extremely hard and her body presses against mine. I'm fucking panting as my hands massage her breasts.

I am aching, craving contact.

Not with Sam. Not next to a mop and an empty bucket.

My tongue swirls around her hardened bud and licks down her torso before stopping at her soaking entrance.

She's too pale.

I want olive skin and golden eyes. I want soft coal black hair and jokes about Shakespeare. I want a timid smile that makes me weak. I want to see his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

your gentle hands  
roam my body  
movement  
rhythm  
poetry  
as you find   
my bundle  
of nerves  
and memorize  
my skin  
feeling  
your moist tongue  
and the hot   
hot heat  
of your mouth  
etching my body  
with metaphors  
of your love

My tongue lays flat against her and she rocks her hips against my mouth. It curls at is slips between her pink folds and laps at her clit.

So good. So good. So good.

Her muscles tighten and she grips at my hair, her legs clenching as she comes.

I lick up her juices and steady her trembling thighs.

She hastily throws her clothes back on and I make an effort to hide my hard-on.

I'll let her believe she did this to me.

She giggles and slips her hand into mine in the hallway. Her head droops to my shoulder and I whisper huskily in her ear.

My eyes don't miss the figure on the opposite side of the hall.

My heart still dances.

His eyes search mine so I kiss Sam.

With so much passion and so much force it shakes me to my core. She moans into my mouth as her back collides with the cold lockers, her hands fisting in my curls.

When I pull away he's nowhere in sight.

I should feel relieved.

But all I feel is a pang of sadness and a twinge of regret as the image of him stabs my heart

over and over and over and over


	9. the taste of stars on the tip of my tongue

An online English class. Who am I kidding? I tuck myself away in the corner of the room, my eyes never daring to look up.

I'm itching to see him and keep fighting the temptation until he says something that makes my breath hitch.

"it is one thing  
to see  
the stars  
but another  
to taste them."

I can't tear my eyes away.

I've never been one to study for exams but when it comes to the curvature of his body I cram. The slope of his lips, the ripples of his spine, the texture of his midnight black hair, his toned muscles flexing beneath his shirt...the way his eyes shimmer in the sunlight. It hits him perfectly as it beams through the window, caressing his tan skin. His jawline is sharp and jagged, like it could slice the tip of my finger. I would take the chance anyway.

He was chiseled by a master of sculpture.

When he turns his head the contours of his cheekbones become more pronounced.

What I would give to kiss his cheek, to watch those long lashes cast shadows as his eyes flutter closed.

To confess my love over sappy love poems and a steaming mug of coffee.

"Mr. Malik," a girl's voice resonates through the empty room. "I ardently object. You can't taste the stars."

"Maybe you're right Jess. It's just a thought to ponder."

I turn in my assignment without uttering a word.

Who would want to taste the stars?

only fools  
would risk

s  
c  
o  
r   
c  
h  
i  
n  
g

their mouths

"Harry hold up."

"I promised Sam a ride."

"Too bad."

"Excuse me?" I look into his eyes for a sign but he remains silent. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Too bad you don't love her."

"Like you care. Do me a favor and fuck off."

"Please," he reaches for my hand and I can't pull away.

My chin tremors as he gives my hand a light squeeze.

"I can't do this Mr. Malik, just-"

"Zayn," he smiles, his lashes batting slowly as he blinks.

"Zayn," I echo.

"Beautiful."

And he's leaning over the desk, his lips finding mine.

It's slow, deep and curious kissing, our lips softly smacking but God it's enough. It's more than enough. He stops and I climb over the table, completely out of my damn mind. His lips find the patch of skin behind my ear, his hands moving down and settling on my hips. My fingers tangle in his hair, feeling the heat of his scalp and his lips travel to my neck.

"Tell me you feel it," I moan as he sucks at my skin, his teeth scraping and grazing. I know he's littering my neck with little marks but I don't mind. "Tell me, tell me Zayn."

The intensity of his gaze makes me shiver. He draws back for a second and words work their way out of his mouth.

"I feel it."

My heart hammers with every letter.

His tongue licks back over the areas his teeth nipped at and my cheeks flush.

I'm noticeably hard but it doesn't phase him.

"Zayn, fuck Zayn."

He pauses, probably unaware that he has completely unraveled me. Then he peppers my face with kisses and my heart softens and melts like warm wax.

A shiver runs down my spine as he whispers into the crook of my neck. He's reciting E.E. Cummings and it's fucking perfect.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Each word he murmurs tickles, not only my skin but my heart. My entire body tingles.

it was as if   
suddenly the universe   
unfolded before   
my very eyes

The world has flopped upside down and my stomach has too. He kissed me.

And he does it again. Hungrily this time, with so much passion I think I'm losing my sanity. His tongue pursues mine madly. It's so wild, so driven if you asked me what my name was I couldn't give an answer.

I'm not sure if the ground is still beneath my feet and I'm not entirely sure I believe in gravity but hell, I believe in miracles.

It's fierce stolen kisses that mean the most. He's frantic, his nails digging into my back like a crescent moon, making dents in my delicate flesh.

My tongue stutters as his traces patterns on mine, repeating them time and time again until I tug at his hair too hard. My fists let go of his soft black tufts and he pulls away, panting.

your tongue   
trailing  
over mine,  
temptation  
has a taste

I'm still in a stupor, struggling to pull my brain out of the fog.

The universe is bursting behind my eyelids, the galaxies and milky way swirling around in the darkness.

"I think I know what the stars taste like."

His thumb pads across my bottom lip, parting them gently. It dips into my mouth, his knuckles grazing my soft palate. My tongue darts and dashes, feeling the grooves and creases of his finger. He slips it out and I look at him, stunned.

"What was that?"

"I wanted to leave an imprint of the constellations on the tip of your tongue."


	10. black coffee and amber eyes

bursting in  
vivid technicolor  
the flames in  
your eyes  
were enough  
to light  
my soul   
and fuel   
a burning desire;  
a passion  
that rages  
more than  
any storm

I press my nose to his and he exhales deeply.

"I'm scared."

"Nobody saw us Zayn, the door is closed. Unless someone is stalking us outside the widow."

"No Harry. I'm scared of us. It's stupid but-"

"To be sensitive? No it isn't."

a soft hazelnut  
tainted rich  
flecks of gold  
drowning in  
the amber pool  
the warmth of  
a thousand suns  
enough heat   
to melt  
my soul

those eyes  
those soft brown eyes

"Harry," he chuckles. "Did you hear me?"

"Huh?"

"I asked about your girlfriend. Weren't you supposed to give her a ride?"

"Girlfriend," I snort. "Who cares? Fuck that."

i'll never understand  
your heart,   
which stole my breath  
from my lungs  
but still warmed   
my veins

"I'm getting an A in this class, right?"

"Don't be silly. You still have to earn it."

I moisten my lips with the flick of my tongue, my eyes glimmering.

"Not like that," he smirks. "And I'm strictly teaching you English."

"But I have so many questions."

He arches his brows and tilts his head. In the glint from the sunlight I swear he's glowing.

"Like what?"

My lips trail over his neck and tickle his earlobe. "I'm just a little curious about your body."

His neck flinches ever so slightly and his breathing shallows. My mouth notices the change in his pulse and I know this isn't just some fling.

He isn't temporary.

He's a constant.

The sun, the moon and all my stars. I don't even care if it's cliche as fuck.

"Can I touch you?"

"W-where?"

My tongue licks the shell of his ear and his pupils dilate, his eyes growing darker.

"Everywhere."

"Not here," he gasps as my teeth tug at his earlobe. "Harry," he warns.

I've never been obedient.

"I'll fail you. I swear I will."

"Is there any way," my hands ghost down his body, stroking his ribcage before stopping at his hips. My thumbs slip up under the soft material of his shirt and draw mindless circles onto his hot skin. "I could get extra credit?"

"Fuck Harry."

"Watch your mouth," I tease.

"This isn't the right time and place, okay? We aren't doing this here."

"Doing what?"

"God, you're stubborn."

...

"This is where I get to be hypocritical. Don't fucking smoke."

"Your mouth is so dirty today."

"Must have picked it up from a student," he jabs.

"Ha ha."

He just kills me with that signature smirk and rolls down the window, smoke billowing from his mouth. 

"Let me get something straight, she stole your bloody car?"

"No, she located my spare keys."

"That makes it much better," he jokes.

"Yeah but now you have the honor of driving me home."

"Who says I'm taking you home?"

His voice is raspy from the cigarette, the scent mixing with leather and warm vanilla sugar.

He turns up the radio and I'm expecting some slow indie shit but Frank Ocean spits out the speakers and it just suits him perfectly.

What if the sky and the stars are for show  
And the aliens are watching live  
From the purple matter  
Sensei went quiet then violent  
And we sparred until we both grew tired  
Nothing mattered  
Cotton candy Majin Buu  
Dim the lights and fall into you  
My god giving me pleasure  
Pleasure pleasure pleasure  
Pleasure over matter

He sings along, drumming on the steering wheel with his hands. I remain silent and smile to myself. Sometimes it's hard to think of teachers outside of school, leading a normal life. Shit, he's just so chill, tattoos peeking out under the collar of his shirt.

His flat is exactly what I would expect: neat but quirky. I catch glimpses of him everywhere: on the bookshelf, through abstract paintings and a paint splattered cigarette carton.

He drinks his coffee black which I find peculiar because he added a sugar packet to his tea but somehow he's okay with the bitterness of cold black coffee.

no creamer in his coffee,  
he stamps out his cigarette,  
the ashes collecting  
in a silver tray

"I think I have a death wish."

"Everyone dies anyway."

"Right but I'm just begging it to come sooner. I'm addicted," he tousled his hair with his fingers.

I note it's darker than the coffee.

"Is it weird that Rumi makes me hard?"

"Yes, yes it is. Hafiz does that to me though."

"Oh really? Come here," he beckons me and I sink into the couch. He sighs, drawing me into his arms and carefully tucks a curl into place. "Guess you didn't get me sick."

"I got over it quickly, must have been your healing touch."

He chuckles, his fingers brushing through my tangled knots and murmurs:

Even  
After  
All this time   
The sun never says  
To the Earth  
"You owe me."  
Look what happens  
With a love like that.  
It lights the   
Whole  
Sky.

Hafiz. My insides shiver and my heart quivers along.

I laugh at that unintended rhyme scheme in my internal dialog.

shiver  
quiver  
stutter  
stammer  
utter   
mutter  
tumble  
mumble

I'm convinced I'm the weirdest person to ever inhabit the Earth.

"What are you thinking about babe?"

Babe.

"Trivial things."

"Mmm," he hums, his velvet lips on my neck.

"Are you tired?"

"I think a permanent state of exhaustion has set it. I'm always tired."

I slip out of his arms and tell him to lean back. He does and my hands knead his tender flesh, working diligently to smooth out the knots in his back and release the tension in his shoulders.

As if one cue the soft pitter patter of rain begins, beating a steady song.

"I love rain."

"Why? Rain is so unbelievably dreary. Those poor raindrops end their journey splattered on cold pavement or slicked under car tires."

Other people think of bleak skies and gloomy days, spent curled up inside, lightning striking outside windows and thunder rumbling.

Thunder roars with life. Thunder is beautiful.

"Raindrops remind me that the clouds can feel."

"Harry," he mumbles. "I think I may love you."


	11. collide

My fingers stroke his scalp as he sleeps, his coal black hair becoming a tousled mess.

My body feels a dull ache for him. I crave closeness. I want to immerse myself in his touch and skim his skin with my lips.

Is it possible to miss someone when they're lying right beside you? Because he's in my arms but the space between us is still too much, leaving me empty.

The space feels like bullet holes.

He's all lashes and cheekbones; a full soft mouth I could kiss until the end of time, just to fill those spots.

There's nothing to do but listen to the soothing sound of the rain. So I do.

And I pull him closer, feeling the outline of his ribs like wings beneath his skin.

His eyelids flutter open and he smiles at me.

My heart is fleeting.

"Hope I wasn't asleep long," he says groggily. He rubs at his eyes wearily and I laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

It's happening.

So fast and so hard I'm plummeting towards the ground. Gravity doesn't have to do anything.

I sit up suddenly, glancing at the ticking clock on the wall.

Shit.

"Zayn, I should get going," I whisper.

"Wait."

He sounds anguished.

"There's just one thing," he murmurs.

"What would that be?"

"Kiss me in the rain."

I want to laugh at the sappy proposal but deep down I know I want it just as bad as him.

The rain soaks our clothes and drenches my hair. It's frigid cold and I shiver but his warm thumbs swipe across my cheeks and trail down my neck. He lets his lips rest there and his teeth mark up my skin, before his tongue flicks over the assaulted flesh.

the thoughts  
in my head  
flow steadily  
like a stream  
but my heart  
babbles  
like a brook

As cold as the downpour is, it's my heart that shivers.

Again and again and again.

His hands fist in my thick coils and he sighs into my mouth, like he's never been so content in his life and fuck it's beautiful. His tongue curls around mine and I try to make sense of it all.

i've never understood  
the language   
of love,  
he says he would  
teach me  
but he can't  
quite put it  
into words

He kisses me until I'm delirious and can't remember my name.

It's something with an H but I can't quite grasp it.

Despite all the oxygen in the world, I can't seem to muster any breath.

My thoughts are incoherent and he knows

he's

u  
n  
r  
a  
v  
e  
l  
l  
i  
n  
g

m  
e

His knuckles graze over my jaw and it's everything.

Now is breath is hot and

s  
t  
a  
g  
g  
e  
r  
d,

his tongue promising things.

He pulls away, his pink lips tugging upward...so soft and so pastel they look like a new eraser.

I sigh so his head dips again, his tongue gliding over my collarbone.

"Your lips part so beautifully Harry."

My cheeks flush so he presses a quick kiss there too.

"I love when I steal your breath and you heave, like you just awoke from a deep slumber."

"You're a thief. Thief! Thief!"

He clamps his hand over my mouth, partly muffling my giggles.

"deep crimson cheeks  
and emerald eyes;  
cherry red lips  
and chocolate curls;  
go ahead my love,   
call me a thief"

"Stealing my breath and capturing my lips isn't the crime."

"What is my crime?"

"Stealing my heart."

...

"Hi Harry."

"How'd you get in?"

"You still hide your key under that rock. Thanks for the ride by the way."

"Sam, I'm sorry-"

"Whatever," he rolls her eyes and picks at her fingernails. "Why are you wet?"

"It's raining."

"Thanks Sherlock."

"You asked."

"So do you want me or not?"

I'm no Saint but she'll spread her legs for anyone.

And she doesn't have olive skin and eyes that can melt the entire world. She isn't the one I want. I could never truly love her. This a space in my heart reserved just for Zayn.

Her kisses never make me dizzy.

so damn dizzy,  
four pints  
on an empty stomach  
dizzy  
ferris wheels  
and carousels  
dizzy;  
what i would give  
to steady  
my dizzy heart

It glides off my tongue so easily. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want you Sam. I'm convinced my heart never wanted you and I'm sorry for that."

when our hearts  
collide  
it's just like  
being struck  
by someone's fist  
or gazing   
at the sun  
too long

when our lips

collide  
i'm not   
just tasting  
but drinking  
you in;  
downing you  
like it's  
the end  
of the world

when our thoughts  
collide  
my lungs  
expand,  
my body  
exploding  
and my stomach  
clenching

Collide.

c o l l i d e

...

"Where's Mr. Malik?"

My mind jumps to conclusions: we're caught, I got him sick, he doesn't want to see me.

Our substitute has fiery red hair and a voice I would listen to if I ever needed to unwind. He introduces himself as Ed and informs us that Zayn's mum has fallen very ill and that he's visiting her in the hospital.

The news is bittersweet. He is still my secret but I don't know how I'll comfort him about his mum.

Ed seems like someone Zayn would hang out with outside of school, to catch a concert or grab a beer. He cracks several jokes and tells us to read a few short poems and complete the short answer questions at the end of the passages.

I really like the guy but he's no Zayn.

"Does he usually let you guys listen to music?"

"Yeah, his Spotify should be up. He always forgets to log out."

"You must be Harry," he smiles.

"Pardon?"

"He wrote a quick note saying to keep an eye on the curly haired lad."

I just smirk and shrug nonchalantly. "I can be a pain in the ass."

He just chuckles and clicks the play button. Redbone by Childish Gambino trickles through the overhead speakers.

Sometimes it's Rubber Band by Bootsy or something by Prince. There's old school Run D.M.C. and laid-back Gregory Isaacs. We always give him shit for it and tell him he might as well light a joint in class. He gets pissy and switches it to classic R&B or Chance the Rapper. We all groan in unison if Michael Jackson comes on and he lectures us about real music. It's odd, an English teacher listening to soulful music, throwback rap and reggae but then again Zayn has a lot of soul.

Too late  
You wanna make it right, but now it's too late  
My peanut butter chocolate cake with Kool-Aid  
I'm trying not to waste my time

"Hey," Liam nudges me with his elbow so I lean in towards his desk.

"What's up?"

"Can you explain that?" He points to an essay in my notebook with a red A circled at the top. "He even wrote magnificent in the margin."

"I just started trying harder, I'm not stupid you know."

He looks jealous for a split second but then pats my back reassuringly.

"I'm glad Harry, you're very smart." He sprawls something in his paper and looks back up at me. "And if I'm not mistaken, Mr. Malik doesn't seem to hate you as much."

"You know Liam, I'm starting to get that feeling too."


	12. cancer and astronomy

"Harry," he perks up, a meek smile on his face. "I've been sat in this chair for hours."

His body is stiff, he lets out a small yawn and stretches. I watch the ripple of his abs and catch a glimpse of the smooth tan patch of skin under the hem of his shirt. I want to trace my fingers up over his hip bone and kiss him tenderly.

"Ed told me you'd be here. It took some convincing to find out the room number. They said only family was allowed in but I threw a fit so here I am."

He chuckles lightly but I don't miss the pronounced dark circles under his eyes or the tiredness in his tone as he says "it's not good" and my heart shudders.

"Zayn," I murmur and caress his cheek. He fumbles for my hand and they lock perfectly like puzzle pieces, his fingers slipping between mine.

"Breast cancer," he breathes out unsteadily, his voice shaken with grief.

"I love the handful of the earth you are.  
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,  
I have no other star. You are my replica  
of the multiplying universe.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know  
from extinguished constellations;  
your skin throbs like the streak  
of a meteor through rain.

Your hips were that much of the moon for me;  
your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;  
your heart, fiery with its long red rays,

was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade.  
So I pass across your burning form, kissing  
you - compact and planetary, my dove, my globe."

"Pablo Neruda," he smiles. "He's one of my favorites." I kiss the tip of his nose, his cheek and the corner of his mouth but his face falls and he looks so sullen it makes my heart cry enough to fill a thousand basins.

"Babe, this is out of your control. Just know that yo-"

"With each passing second my love for you grows stronger."

"Zayn?" His mum stirs and smiles weakly. He shoots up, hovering over her bed. "Is this the student you're always talking about?"

His cheeks flush, his eyes casting downward in embarrassment.

"Mum," he groans. She winks at me and in that moment I just know she'll pull through. The world isn't ready to take her yet. She's too headstrong.

She insists I call her Trisha and I warm up to her immediately.

"How old are you Harry?"

"Almost nineteen."

Her brows raise in surprise and Zayn rushes to clarify, his eyes wide. She doesn't seem to mind the age gap at all, saying "age is just a number, don't let people tell you what you feel for each other is wrong. What you know in your heart is stronger than any outside force; it's a bond that cannot be broken."

"Now I know why Zayn is so wise and how he always knows exactly what to say to soothe my soul."

"You're such a lovely boy," she praises and kisses my cheek. "I'm feeling a lot better honey," she assures Zayn, stroking her fingers through his dark quiff. Her nose scrunches up and she scolds Zayn for smoking.

"M'sorry, you know I smoke when I'm nervous."

"I have a daunting task for you Harry."

"What would that be?"

"Help my baby quit smoking. It's such a nasty habit."

"Zayn, I don't want to kiss an ashtray."

He bursts into bright laughter and kisses me softly.

...

i grow jealous of  
the morning sun  
that sees his face first  
and the coffee cup  
whose rim touches  
his sleepy lips  
awake

"Your mum is amazing. She seems really resilient. Her will to live will outweigh the cancer. I promise."

"I sure hope so."

"That's all we can do Zayn," I squeeze his hand gently.

He nods, sheepishly before taking another sip of his coffee.

"I took today off. M'not feeling it."

"Then I'm skipping today."

"Harry," he frowns. "School is important."

"Yeah but everything I'll ever need to know I can learn from you."

He rolls his eyes dramatically.

inhales sharply,  
i want to kiss him  
without warning,  
i need that breath  
he's holding in;  
his breaths  
are mine  
and mine his

"What's worse?" My fingers fiddle with a napkin on the table. "Drowning beneath rushing waves or dying from thirst?"

"Harry, what kind of question is that?"

"Do you let yourself drown in your love for someone or do you never quench your thirst?"

"Who says you have to drown? Let's just float."

"You sank and he stayed afloat."

"You aren't him Harry. I'm no longer afraid to get my feet wet."

"Parallel lines are so close but never touch. I know that's random but it really bothers me. What keeps them apart?"

"Rules of mathematics," he jokes. "Is English your favorite subject?"

"Nope."

"Oi," he hits my shoulder playfully. "Why not?"

"I've always been fascinated with astronomy."

"Why?"

"There are uncharted territories out there. I like the unknown. I like oblivion."

"You're so strange."

"I'm not disagreeing," I smirk. "Just think of it this way; our bodies are inhabiting one spot, in one house, in one city, in one country...we take up a miniscule amount of space on Earth, yet there are whole other planets and galaxies. It makes my problems feel so tiny. Luckily, Earth is the only planet that feels and has laughter and life...that is something to celebrate."

"The world is waked with mistakes Harry."

"Maybe so but I have something to share with you."

"Okay," he replies hesitantly.

"You are not one of those mistakes."

His eyes burn brighter than any star and he leans in to kiss me, his lips etching a burning trail on my skin. No molten lava can compare to the heat of this love; of our passion. I refuse to believe it and I refuse to believe it will ever burn out.

As if you were  
on fire  
from within,  
the moon lives  
In the lining  
of your skin

Another Neruda poem, one that perfectly relates the universe to intimacy.

My heart laughs, realizing Neruda sounds so similar to the word nebula.


	13. i love the way

I know the sound my tongue makes when it flicks across the dimples at the bottom of his spine and I let my fingers linger on his skin too long.

I've learned so many things but my heart still punches at my chest when hose three words threaten to tumble right out of my mouth.

When he kisses me I gasp and his warm breath fans across my neck. "Do you hide secrets and sounds just for me?"

"Yes," and a moan escapes my mouth just to prove it so. "Aren't you glad I skipped?"

"You're naughty."

"You have no idea," I smirk.

And my mouth runs wet with the taste of him, as his hands run up my back. He carves words into my skin like I need you, I want you, it's you.

You

y  
o  
u

y  
o  
u

y  
o  
u

I stagger back but he swiftly scoops me up into my arms. I feel myself unraveling as he places me ever so gently on the bed.

"Hi," I smile up at him. He just grins back, making my heart flutter.

His finger runs over my hip, tracing a circle where my skin turns milky white. He collapses on top of me, his mouth finding my throat, my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. The hot heat makes my skin weep. He tastes every inch of me, his tongue lapping at the beads of sweat rolling down my body. His hands tug gently at my hair and I groan and he licks a stripe across my waist.

"So many things I would do to you," he moans.

I know that means he won't. Not now, not so soon.

If all I ever know is the curve of his pink bottom lip and the rough wetness of his tongue I'll still die satisfied.

"Do you know what kissing you is like," he asks breathlessly, his eyes glimmering.

"What?"

"My first cigarette. Terrifying and exhilarating all at one."

"Addicting?"

"Very," he chuckles.

My heart scales my chest and my head falls onto his shoulder.

"Can I use your heart as a pillow?"

"I don't know if that'll be comfortable."

"But your heart is mushy."

He just smiles, amused by my quirkiness.

kissing  
so fiercely  
and so deeply  
i lose touch  
with reality,  
surely  
this is a dream  
and one day  
i'll wake up

maybe he feels  
my heart  
flutter  
under   
his lips  
and how   
i shiver  
when our   
tongues touch

it's maddening  
finding yourself  
at a loss for words  
but wanting   
nothing more   
than that

There are crumpled papers in the waste basket by his desk. They look like his creased white sheets, wrinkling under the weight of our bodies.

He has a bookshelf in his room, overflowing with classics and poem anthologies. There are several well organized boxes full of records and a Banksy print above his bed. Everything is well loved and the room smells like warm vanilla sugar and leather.

My place is cramped and untidy, messy to match the inside of my brain.

Outside the window the day dies right before our eyes. He gets up to scribble something down but can't press his pen to the paper, tears suddenly dripping onto the page, the blobs staining the places the ink should.

My heart clenches up like an angry fist, bitter over his mum's cancer and undiscovered talent. Outraged over poets that never get published and stars that burn out. Sad over people who have never known love and people too blind to love those who are different from themselves. People who have nothing yet smile when the sun comes up in the morning and sob happy tears when they have fresh water to drink and ointment to heal wounds.

I consider myself lucky. I can easily stich up my scars and tend to my cuts. I'm even lucky enough to have Zayn, who can heal even the ugliest of wounds..

All too often scars aren't created by knives or scrapes or even touching a hot surface.

They're created because we love too deeply and trust too completely, people who will never love us back.

Human folly, like Icarus flying too close to the sun. We always want more, even when we know the potential dangers.

Hearts are greedy and hearts are hungry.

When we take more than we should we end up starved.

"Letters on paper form words that make up sentences, which in turn become masterpieces and have the power to transform the human heart."

My bones feel weak, I think I'm dissolving into dust, my eyes skimming over the words he wrote.

I love the way you brush through your tangled hair and you catch me staring from the front of the room and I love the way your words fill the empty spaces in my heart. When words are stuck at the back of my throat, you ease them out. I love that my practical side gets thrown out the window and I let myself believe in fate and destiny. I love your flawless white skin and your eyes, the palest shade of emerald I've ever seen and I love you for not letting me get lost in my own lonely thoughts. You send me small smiles and secretive glances and I know I'm falling apart. I don't want to keep us secret because anytime there's space between us it's suffocating and I just want to say...

"Zayn, I won't tell anybody. I promise you. We'll keep it hidden, even if it means-"

"I love you."

My nerves jerk and my heart tumbles, unsure of what to feel.

"Please say something."

I want to, so desperately but my mouth feels dry. It's like there's a swab of cotton blocking the back of my throat and I'm going to choke on these feelings.

"Say you love me too."

The silence is eerie. It frightens me. Why can't you just say it? What are you so afraid of? The air grows thick and heavy, nearly strangling me. It feels like we're continents apart. We're two land masses, drifting.

Who knew silence could be deafening?

"God Harry," he chokes on a sob. "I'm stupid for saying this so soon. What did I expect, for you to fall to your knees and proclaim your unwavering love for me?"

I kiss him slow and delicately and murmur against his lips.

"i need our limbs  
to unhurriedly entwine  
in a loose embrace  
so my words   
can get muffled  
against your soft skin  
and i won't  
have to  
just say it  
but you'll feel it"

I pause to kiss his cheek

"i love you"

his mouth

"i love you"

his jawline

"i love you"

his collarbone

"i love you"

and his warm shoulder

"i love you"


	14. (un)tethered hearts

"When did this become a thing?"

"Lou got really drunk and wanted to mess around. I told him he was too wasted but here we are."

Louis brushes his sandy hair off his shoulder, smirking.

"He still sucked me off."

Liam's eyes bulge out, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"Louis!"

I just chuckle, happy they're finally a couple. I thought I would be forced to mash their lips together and tell them to accept their feelings. It was always so obvious there was tension between them.

"I'm just estatic you finally dumped Sam. Do you jack off alone in your room now?"

"Oh my gosh Louis, watch your mouth."

"You love this mouth Daddy."

If embarrassment could kill, Liam would drop dead.

"You'll find someone Harry," Liam pats my shoulder, a broad smile on his face.

"Yeah, I'm sure there's someone stupid enough to fall for you," Louis adds jokingly.

he doesn't just teach  
metaphors  
and rhyme schemes,   
he teaches about   
love and loss  
and what it's like   
to truly live,  
i've been dead  
for years now,   
but my heart  
is no longer  
dormant

"I'm assuming you guys were angels while Ed was here. I had a family emergency, sorry about the short notice. I love you guys. Let's talk about John Keats. What in the hell is up with him? Why is his poetry so popular? Let's chat."

"His poignant portrayal of love," Liam is quick to answer.

Zayn nods in agreement and scribbles it up on the board.

"I dig it. I like it. Any other thoughts, comments, criticisms?"

The room grows still, silence swallowing me up. "I did assign a few readings over Keats when I was gone, didn't I? You were supposed to answer questions over him."

"Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art."

He pivots on his heel, his head titling as the wheels churn in his brain. He wields his dry erase marker like a powerful weapon, strong enough to puncture hearts as he writes on the board

why do we lament   
over lost love?   
why is there   
such a poetic  
emphasis  
on love  
why do our hearts  
weep  
and mourn  
those who   
don't really  
give a damn

It strikes a chord with me, chills coursing down my spine.

what is it  
about love  
that we   
ache for,  
do we crave  
pyhsical touch  
or are we  
desperate  
for more,   
our hearts  
seeking bonds,  
wishing   
to be tethered  
like knots

t  
e  
t  
h  
e  
r  
e  
d

l  
i  
k  
e

k  
n  
o  
t  
s

My heart rewinds the words over an over again until the film becomes twisted.

Now my stomach is in knots and I'm hoping this isn't about me. It churns like the sea before a storm and I want for him to explain. I wait for anything, a response from another student, a pen to drop but nothing happens.

People either stare blankly at the board or cast their eyes downward, burying their noses in their notebooks.

It seems like when people have to most to say they scramble and struggle to put their thoughts into words.

"Forgive me for wandering off topic. Let's just talk about To Autumn, yeah?"

"It's an ode," someone states flatly.

"Quite obviously an ode to autumn," Zayn smirks. "Glad we established that."

"Ripeness plays an important role," Liam adds. 

"How so?"

"When we think if autumn, we think of an abundance or a cornucopia."

"Exactly."

"There's a certain richness to autumn," I posit.

Autumn is his favorite season.

"He contrasts heaviness and things falling and flying. It's fucking genius. The vines are loaded with fruit, the gourd is swollen and the hazelnuts are plump. Autumn is heavy with all of this bursting life. It's fruitful and beautiful."

He disregards all of that and responds to some girl's response about the juxtaposition of the seasons and embedded metaphors. Her answer seems to suit his fancy and they engage in a lengthy conversation about allegory.

I'm usually not the jealous type but this stings like a bee and it takes everything I have to keep my mouth silent the rest of class. I sketch somewhat lazily along the margins of my notebook and nearly jump out of my skin when the bell rings, rushing out with a mass of warm bodies to avoid Zayn.

...

I find myself dozing off on Thursday and it suddenly strikes me why I hated this class in the first place.

Zayn.

I hate his sudden coldness. He seems aloof. He's nervous, his hand jittery as he writes on the board. I figure it's more than just drinking too much coffee.

Maybe it's something I said or he's having second thoughts but then again he's the one that said it first.

Those three words, powerful enough to move mountains.

I love you.

"Hey, wait a second."

I shudder but turn around anyway, my feet halfway out the door.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm ignoring you."

"Thinking and knowing are two completely different things. Let me spell something out for you Mr. Malik, I k n o w you're ignoring me. See the difference?"

"Aren't we way past last names Mr. Styles?"

"Not if you don't want to be. Go ahead, give me the whole nine yards, the entire it's not you, it's me speech. I can take it. Fucking hit me with it."

and he does  
like a ton  
of bricks,  
my heart   
skipping  
like stones  
on a pond

"I don't want it to be obvious. People will get suspicious. You're brilliant Harry and I always cherish your answers but I can't just subtly confess my love for you the whole class, can I? It's you. Everything is you and my mind is reeling. Why are you all I think of?"

I get it. I understand where he's coming from. This is scary as hell. Raven hair and olive skin consumes my thoughts. It probably isn't healthy to become so attached to someone in such a short period of time.

my heart  
twinges  
at the thought  
of losing him  
and   
my heart  
hinders  
as i realize  
losing him  
means   
losing myself

"We need space and time."

"Okay," I breathe out unsteadily.

"Can we get through a few more weeks, just until you graduate?"

"Yeah," I speak with such certainty

but swallow the lump in my throat.


	15. time

They say time heals all wounds.

Time creates wounds. It leaves scars that won't fade and makes you realize your life is futile. You work so hard to get ahead, to make a name for yourself but want comes of it?

You allow your heart all the pleasures it could ever want and you change excitement on your fingertips.

The unexpected is terrifying but thrilling and you feel an adrenaline rush when your try something crazy.

You reach a new high. It makes you dizzy.

This is youth. Reckless abandonment.

Wild. Untamed. Free.

Then your heart grows weary and you're suddenly so tired of scotch burning your throat and grinding against an unfamiliar face. You're so sick of mindless games and risky bets it makes you ill. Kissing strangers in a closet and body shots suddenly seems so juvenile.

So your heart searches for something more permanent.

You want stability and your heart jumps at the first sign of romance.

For me it was Sam. We met at a party. She was flirty and I was wasted so my ears liked the sound of the slurred compliments she showered over me. I guess I expected it to be a fling but then we started holding hands and bonding over small things: favorite radio stations and smoothies. I liked Sam but our relationship lacked depth. Sure, we were intimate and she made me feel good but I never felt completely satisfied.

I was less than excited when I had to take English literature my senior year. Like I hadn't already proved my sufficieny in the English language. Liam told me he'd sign up for the same class to make it slightly less miserable.

I showed up twenty minutes late on the first day of class, a noticable hickey on my neck and I remember it clearly.

He just smiled sweetly and said "nice of you to join us Harold."

It made my blood boil. I rolled my eyes and sat texting on my phone the entire time. When I got up to leave he asked me if it was worth it. I was confused until his gaze fell on the marks on my neck and I nearly fainted, the tint of my cheeks the color of a budding rose.

"Fuck off."

"You seem smart, surely there are other words in your vocabulary."

"My sincerest apologies."

"I like you. You know why?"

"I don't really care."

"Because there's a fire within you that can't be put out."

"Yeah but here you are trying to put me out."

"That's where you're wrong Harry, I'm gasoline. I'm your fuel."

"Are you as good at teaching as you are getting under people's skin?"

"I don't know," his eyes glimmer. "Your skin it pretty thick."

And he laughed at me. Laughed because I was supposed to be a raging fire but he still found a way to burn me.

...

I wanted to hate his jokes and the way he tried so hard to relate to the students in class. I wanted to hate the wide rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and the sound of his laughter.

It's hard to fabricate hate.

He told us to write a poem on the third day of school and mine was about hate.

it's such a strong word   
we don't even know  
the havoc it wreaks,  
its power and  
the hearts that it breaks   
it slips off his tongue   
before he can think  
he tries to take it back  
but it's too fucking late  
"I hate you; you're worthless"  
his own life to take

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Not really," I mutter.

"Hey," he lowers his voice and grabs my arm. "This is serious. Depression can be life threatening."

"This class is depressing," I grumble.

"Is there anything I can do to make it more enjoyable?"

I felt like shit. He actually cared. All I did was raise hell and make snarky remarks. That didn't bother him a bit.

I couldn't deny the effect he had on my eyes either.

Ethereal.

That's all I could think of.

His long black lashes fluttered like delicate wings as he blinked, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and all I could think to say was

"I actually do like poetry, I swear."

He chuckled, his amber eyes sparkling and replied "me too, that's why I teach English."

For several weeks I waged an internal war, fighting between wanting to despise him and wanting to give the class a chance but the first unit was as boring as watching weeds grow.

I was too concerned with staying out late and getting shit-faced. I was wasting precious time fucking Sam and going to night clubs, my hips swaying to the loud bass.

Time.

Everything comes back to time.

Time dwindles. Time passes. Times drags. Time flies.

"I don't have enough time."

"What a waste of time."

"She got there just in time."

"What time is it?"

"It's about damn time."

"For the last time."

"Please be timely."

"His time is running short."

Tick tock.   
Tick tock.   
Tick tock.

We stare transfixed at the clock.

Tick tock.  
Tick tock.

We don't know what we're waiting for. We're anxious and impatient by nature.

Tick tock.

Time runs out.

...

"He didn't even give me the time of day."

I glance at the woman behind me in line, studying the way her eyes crinkle at the corners and the wrinkles between her wiry brows.

It looks like she's been around for quite some time. I'm sure she's had her fair share of heartache and adventure.

We did a small unit on Rilke and read Again and Again which is one of my all-time favorite poems.

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love  
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,  
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others  
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together  
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again  
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

In response I wrote

Time and Again

i asked time  
once again  
because my   
words fell dark  
like the middle  
of the night  
they weren't   
luminous  
like when Rilke  
said them  
but they both  
fell  
into that same  
silent abyss

At some point in life your heart finally finds the one and settles down.

You think your life is special; that it means something and that you'll leave an impact on the world.

Usually our lives don't leave marks.

But time continues to dwindle.

And our lives come to and end.


	16. tender touch

touch my heart  
and tickle my soul

"I love weekends."

He hums in agreement, his fingers tracing circles on my hip where my hoodie is riding up.

"Me too because I beat you at Scrabble twice."

"You're an English teacher Zayn." He laughs brightly and kisses my temple. "I can't believe we went a week without touching. It felt like eternity."

His love felt so unattainable yesterday but now he's within reach so I indulge in a kiss, savoring his taste and the dip of his upper lip.

His tongue slips into my mouth and my body quivers.

I want to devour him. He's afraid of moving too fast but reflecting on time made me realize it's never too soon for anything.

Take nothing for granted and cherish each moment.

He sucks little bruises on my neck, his hands tugging at my chocolate curls before our lips re-connect. It's swift and sloppy but so indescribably good.

"Need you like I need cigarettes," he exhales.

"Breathe you in like I breathe air," I pant and he presses his nose to mine as we heave, struggling to catch the said breath.

He bites at my lip and I come undone, my mind static like a fuzzy television screen. I find myself in his lap and he palms me through my tight jeans.

red raw lips  
and dark  
black lashes  
touch me  
there  
again  
and again  
until i forget  
everything

"S-shit, I'm intoxicated."

His hand stops moving and he sends me an unsure look.

"Drunk on you," I clarify.

"Ahhhh, I see. We're drunk on each other."

So this time we go slow and delicately, our lips softly smacking. He parts my tongue tentatively and I sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away there's a glint in his eyes I've never seen before.

"You are sheer joy," he murmurs against my neck. "Pink cheeks and bright eyes."

He presses a kiss to my throat and I shiver. "I could feel your pulse strumming under my lips."

I can't contain myself any longer and stroke him through his pants. His eyes flutter closed, his mouth parting obscenely.

Soon his hand does the same and we pant against each other's mouths, maddened but unsure of what to do next.

He rolls the heel of his palm against my crotch as he continues to kiss me.

Just kisses and kisses and kisses.

My nails dig desperately into his back, leaving shallow half-moon marks in his skin. He tugs my sweatshirt up over my head and my stomach lurches as he pulls me impossibly closer.

His teeth catch on my nipple and I hiss, my body flinching as he tugs gently with his teeth.

"Zayn, Zayn, Zayn," I moan out delirious.

His thumbs circle over my sensitive buds until they're hard, his tongue sweeping over them. I gasp as he gives a little pinch and my eyes are lidded as they close. I'm sure my cheeks are flushed and I look like a mess but I don't care. I've never been touched like this.

"You're so beautiful." My eyes open slowly and I drink him in.

"Usually you touch me with your words but I'm getting used to your gentle hands and the taste of your lips."

Losing track of time. That happens too.

losing track  
of time  
losing touch  
with reality  
my eyes   
closing  
as he strokes  
that one spot,  
strokes slowly,  
steadily,  
trying  
to keep  
his breathing  
in check

"Sorry I can't take you out on a proper date. I'll make up for it this summer when you're graduated."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Let's just talk."

He smiles and ruffles my hair with his fingers. "Okay, I can do that. That's one of my many skills."

"You're very gifted at it," I giggle.

We end up listening to Bon Iver instead and Zayn doesn't want to dance but when I place my hand firmly on his hip and smile he gives in. His arms wrap around my neck and our bodies mold together.

i feel   
the beat  
of his heart  
and his soft  
breath   
on my neck,  
his softness  
all over me  
the heat of  
his hands  
and his body  
contains me

"I knew you could dance."

"I never said I couldn't, I just don't like to."

"What about with me?" My lips skim over his neck and his eyes sear into mine.

"Dance with me again."

...

I find myself curled up beside him in his bed, our fingers entwined.

i promise myself  
that every night  
before the darkness  
shallows this already  
blackened world whole  
i'll tell him how   
beautiful he is  
and i'll show  
how i love him  
even in   
his darkest hours

"I like the dusty corners of your soul and the ugly things you try to keep hidden Harry."

"The words you speak are my favorite quotes. I have them bookmarked in my brain and tucked safely in my heart. If I wrote down all the beautiful things you've ever said I'd have an entire volume of books."

"Harry, oh Harry."

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his crisp scent, his quiff tickling my nose.

"What have I still not taught you?"

"You should let me demonstrate what I can do with my mouth."

"Why babe? I bet I can do better."

"Prove it."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

I don't even have to beg.

"I like the wetness of your mouth and the lust laden rasp of your voice. Move to the edge of the bed for my baby."

I scoot to corner of the bed and don't think twice about him being my teacher. He's so much more than that.

He drops to his knees and cups my member. I grind meekly into the palm of his hand, realizing how hard I've suddenly become.

"Please forgive me," I stammer. "I'm just a horny teenager." He smirks, pulling me off the bed and I grind up against him, my hips rolling. A thin sheen of sweat makes my body glisten and I thrust up into his palm. He stills my hands.

"I've got you babe." My muscles clench and I whimper as I lift my hips more, trying to get some temporary relief, the friction driving me insane.

His fingers slip under the waistband of my underwear. My skin is flushed and sticky with sweat but he doesn't mind. His tongue flicks over my nipples, his hand gently squeezing around my neck. His thumb applies more pressure and my breath falters, my pulse strumming under his touch.

"You like that?"

I nod and he captures my thumb, pulling it into his soft moist mouth. His tongue licks and sucks at it, catching me by surprise. His cheeks hallow and his eyelids flutter closed.

He sucks my thumb deeper into his mouth. My body won't still, I continue moving my hips rhythmically, beads of sweat pooling at my hairline.

The inside of his mouth is so soft I'm afraid my thumb will dissolve against the inside of his cheeks. My body trembles and I come suddenly, inadvertently biting down on his thumb.

I've never come from something so simple, my body bucking and my mouth falling wide open.

He tugs down my boxers and kneels, guiding my member into his mouth. He sucks agonizingly slow and I tug at his soft coal black tufts of hair. He takes me in all the way, making me gasp and thrust upward. He gags at the sudden jolt and pulls back, a string of saliva connecting my tip with his pink plump lips. Tears prick at my eyes as he hums, sending vibrations through my body.

I think he's going to send me over the edge again but he pulls off with a loud pop, his eyes glistening.

"Touch me again Zayn. Tenderly, tenderly," I say sleepily, my eyelids growing heavy.

Our lips can touch and we can taste all the dreams we have hidden beneath our bones.


	17. milk and honey coated fingers

*mature content

his cheek  
creased against  
the silk pillow  
amid the rumpled  
sheets  
it's enough   
to make   
my heart yearn  
and my self-control  
grow weak

He stirs and my breath falters but then sleep tugs gently at him again.

I think of   
the buzz  
and vibrations  
of his lips,  
the eager movements   
of his sweet   
fingertips  
dipping inside  
me slowly  
i coat him  
with fresh milk  
i hum   
blissfully  
as he finds  
my precious   
seed  
i pollinate  
with him inside,  
swapping milk  
for honey

teeth nipping, your fingers between my legs. You palm me until I moan and pull me closer, kissing my softer and licking at me skin until you find my hips and tug off my boxers

sweet milk and honey

press a kiss to my inner thigh, suck a love bite there and I'll bend my legs for you as your tongue works at my tight ring

hitting my bundle of nerves and eating me out until I scream out your name

zayn

remind me how to breathe

teach me how to think

teach me

sweet milk and honey

you pull up and lick teasingly up my shaft, milk and honey dribbling onto your moist tongue

i shiver as you lap it up

sweet milk and honey

if your tongue is tired, dip your nibble fingers in

kiss me passionately

look at me Zayn, long black lashes batting and say those words

say them and mean them

again and again

and I'll say them too

i love you, i love you

i do

flip us around, gripping at my hips and pour a generous amount of lube onto your hand

so cold, warm in up with tender fingers and rub it against my skin

press your thumb to my slit and my hips will snap upward

make my body dance for you

for you

sweet milk and honey

for you

clench and unclench around me and my lips will part for you

i won't feel empty

because you fill me up

your thumb tracing over my hip bone

i'll let my moans get lost in your warm mouth as my hips roll and press down

on you

press down on you

sweet milk and honey

i love you

i do

I wake up drenched in a cold sweat, my heart pounding out of my chest.

I sit up abruptly, hitting the headboard with a clang.

"Harry?" Zayn's voice is groggy with sleep, deep and slow just for me.

He pushes back the coils plastered to my forehead.

"Are you alright love?"

I bite at the inside of my cheek, my face flushing. He just chuckles, his hand slipping down to my slick boxers.

"Wet for me babe?"

Oh God. Fuck. I know a lot of words. Hell, I know a little Spanish and Italian too.

Now I can't even seem to string together simple syllables.

26 letters in the English alphabet but when he touches me there gingerly only two come out.

oh

"sometimes my tongue  
is impatient  
and tries to commit  
your skin to memory  
and my mouth  
just wants  
to wander  
let me count  
the freckles  
on your body  
and trace   
your black   
tattoos  
and allow  
my hands  
to travel  
and roam  
so you can be  
my new   
favorite place"

So I grant him permission and he licks a stripe across my collarbone and his fingers stroke down my ribs.

He seizes my hands and captures my breath, licking at my nipples until my back arches off the bed.

"damp curls  
and rosy cheeks  
i've never known you  
this way before"

Our mouths collide like asteroids in space. There is no space between us. I wouldn't want there to be.

fission and fusion  
and bursts   
of light   
behind my closed lids  
lungs expanding  
and exploding  
my heart   
a pulsing  
ball of heat  
within my chest

Time can stop.

He stopped time.

My cock tingles and I want to rush, rush, rush because I know I don't have forever but God, I need this.

I don't want to wait.

Once again, his hands slip under the thick band of my underwear, curling around my growing erection. His fingers are so cold my spine tingles. I try to swallow the moan threatening to crawl out of the back of my throat but I fail.

he is sure  
to look at me  
as he places  
his fingers there  
electrical wire,  
my lip quivers  
and he smiles  
because i am  
a switchboard  
and he is   
the circuit  
he sparks  
electricity  
within me

we also  
make music  
his hands  
tugging   
at my damp curls  
our hips moving  
rhythmically  
make music   
out of me  
music  
out of  
me

sweet milk and honey  
milk and honey

"Do you know the difference between sex and making love," he inquires.

How does he expect my brain to function at a time like this?

"Tell me," I say breathlessly.

His answer is murmured softly against my neck, his fingers still working diligently inside of me.

"Sex joins two bodies but making love joins two souls."

All he has done to me is move his fingers but I let out a series of quick, desperate gasps and I come so hard I nearly black out.

"So beautiful," he whispers, his fingers brushing through my hair.

I came so suddenly, so messily, spilling milk and honey cream all over his tan fingers.

my body quaked  
as I released  
choked little gasps  
and staggered breaths  
seeing stars  
seeing stars  
i love him  
i love him  
i do

His tongue dips in now, etching patterns until my erratic heartbeat is calm and my body stills.

he stops   
too soon   
but i'm all   
cleaned up   
and when  
he kisses me   
i can taste  
my own  
milk   
and honey

"i like my body when it is with your  
body. It is so quite new a thing.  
Muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body. i like what it does,  
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
-firm-smooth ness and which i will  
again and again and again  
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
over parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new"

"e.e. cummings," I sigh.

"Do you think Cummings can make you come?"

I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, my laughter becoming muffled.


	18. souls of flames

"Look at them twinkling. So beautiful," he sighs.

I agree but I'm gazing over at him, studying the stars reflected in his eyes. I can see our future in his eyes, burning bright.

Please don't burn out.

"They're so far away they could have already burned out. They might not be alive but their light hasn't faded yet. People are like that too. You don't know which ones are already dead on the inside."

A single tear slips down my cheek as his fingers slip between mine.

"We're all stars Zayn, wrapped in skin. The light we seek has always been inside of us."

He rolls over in the grass, his body now on top of mine and his hands cupping my face.

"My star," his voice quivers. "Being with you is like taking a sip of eternity."

"Zayn," my tear evaporates under his warm lips. "Stay with me."

"I will babe."

"Even when my world grows dark?"

"I promise."

calcium in  
our bones  
and iron  
in our veins  
carbon  
in our souls  
souls of flames  
we're made of  
stardust,  
lost stars  
roaming   
the Earth

"A billion stars spinning through the night,/glittering above your head,/But in you is the presence that will be/when all the stars are dead."

Rainer Maria Rilke. Fucking Rilke.

It's his turn to cry. He tries to keep the tears at bay but they gush out like a dam.

So I kiss him slow because it's all I know.

crumbling moons  
and dying galaxies  
beneath my skin  
weeping   
uninhabited planets  
and lonely asteroids  
lost in orbit  
but then   
he touches me  
and my ebbing universe  
bursts into life

"I was thinking about time and how we all just die like the stars. We rush around our entire lives trying to get ahead but then we all end up buried several feet under the grass."

He presses his ear to my chest and my heart pounds faster.

"Why is your heart beating now?"

"Because I'm alive."

"No," he whispers. "What makes your heart beat? Why do you wake up in the morning?"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"You."

"Life is a gift Harry."

I know I'm young but I know what love is. This is love. Love is when your heart bursts at every word and your doubts melt away with every kiss. When you realize you don't want to throw it all away because you found someone that understands the darkest corners of your soul.

tired eyes  
and happy sighs  
red pens   
and grade marks  
tousled hair  
and tangled sheets  
lazy Sunday  
afternoons  
and the first sip  
of coffee  
the chill   
of my lungs  
and the ache  
in my bones  
for soft   
amber eyes  
and skin  
caressed   
by the sun  
i'm still   
just a kid  
but i fell   
in love  
without knowing  
what it was

"I hated you," I break the silence.

"What?"

"At the beginning of the year, I thought you were a prick. The truth is you just cared and I didn't want you to. I didn't realize I was hallow."

reaching into  
my soul  
and rearranging  
my bones  
rebuilding  
my ribcage  
so your heart   
could  
come home

"I thought you were quite possibly the smartest eighteen year old I had ever met and it worried me that you knew more about sad poetry than yourself."

"Sorry I cheated on my first essay."

He laughs cheerily and kisses my cheek.

"Sorry I kept you late after class. In all honesty, your stubbornness gave me an excuse to see your face a little bit longer and I savored that."

I gasp dramatically. "I'm sorry Mr. Malik, but are you insinuating that you have feelings for a student?"

"Hush," he murmurs against my lips. "You had to march in every day with that backpack slung over your shoulder and huff. That attitude is very sexy."

"I wrote about you in my notebook all the time. I'd share it with you but I was in denial and those thoughts have probably found their way to a landfill. I kept telling myself it was wrong to have feelings for someone other than Sam but I never had feelings for her."

"You know my mum was surprised when I started dating Mason but I explained to her that I wasn't necessarily gay, my heart just falls for certain people. It could have been a girl but it wasn't. Then he cheated on me and I swore to never fall in love again. That was a ludicrous idea, you can't just deny your heart something it wants."

"He had the entire world in his hands but he let it slip through his fingers."

His eyes meet mine and he chases my lips, his tongue dipping into my mouth.

When he pulls away I tug him back towards me, not wanting to be apart and my teeth nip at his neck.

"Harry," he says softly.

I stop and that's all we need to let everything come flooding out. He can't stop touching me, can't stop kissing my mouth, my cheek, my throat.

"You're my favorite poem," and his tongue runs along my collarbone. "Let me annotate you."

He slips my shirt off and our nipples graze. His lips and tongue inscribe words into my skin.

"I'll leave my poem in your mouth Zayn, so every time you breathe out to can hear the lines."

kissing me   
connotatively,  
you won't find  
this in a dictionary  
because nothing  
can describe  
the sweet air  
filling my lungs  
while i'm  
simultaneously  
out of breath

When his lips are done exploring his fingers brush through my hair.

"Am I your favorite student, your favorite star or your favorite poem?"

"You're just mine."

My heart trips at those words.

He's mine too, I hope he knows that. I hope he understands that his skin can share secrets and his mouth can mutter all of his fears.

"Pour yourself into me and I will not let a drop hit the ground."

He smiles and replies "I've always admired Rudy Francisco."


	19. crescendo

*mature content

"G'morning Harry," he smiles sheepishly and I kiss his cheek, my arms enveloping him.

"Hi sleepyhead," I ruffle his soft jet black hair and he yawns.

"I wake up really early on weekdays, give me a break."

"Hate to say this but tomorrow is Monday."

"No no no," he cups his hands over his ears and I chuckle, realizing how different he is outside of school. He's goofy and relaxed and...perfect. "Can't we go back to bed babe?"

"I guess so. I told my mum I've been spending the weekend with the lads. Speaking of which, how is Trisha?"

"She got released from the hospital but she doesn't know if she wants to go through with chemotherapy. What if it isn't worth the risk? I'd be putting a lot at stake financially and I can't even rest assured it would pay off."

I nod, listening intently and decide to be completely honest with him.

"I think she's going to make a miraculous recovery and that obviously you should care but don't lose too much sleep over her condition."

"How do you know Harry?"

"I don't know anything for sure Zayn, I just have a feeling. Don't be so glum. Cheer up."

I attempt to tug the corners of his lips upward into a smile but it's futile and he rolls over with a frown on his face.

"you have grown  
like roots  
around my ribcage,  
sprouting flowers   
beneath my collarbone   
and planting seeds   
inside my heart"

"Harry," he murmurs.

"Look at me Zayn."

He flips over, a tiny smile splaying across his face.

"There it is," I sigh contently.

"What?"

"The smile that encouraged the stars to climb up into the sky."

i moan  
as he tugs  
gently   
at my curls  
his tongue   
dancing  
the tango  
with mine   
bare chests  
pressing together  
my hands sliding  
over his shoulder  
blades, fingers  
pressing   
to his spine

My lips capture his and my mind blanks. How are his lips so soft?

So soft and gentle.

s  
o

s  
o  
f  
t

His fingers trail over my stomach, his mouth pressing against the sensitive patch of skin beneath my navel. I shiver as his tongue flicks across my stomach, my fingers threading through his hair. My body ruts against his, a moan falling from my mouth.

lips skimming  
my collarbone  
tounge dragging  
along my flesh  
nipping at   
copy paper white  
skin, sucking  
hard enough  
to leave a bruise

"Could get off just from the sounds you make," he murmurs and my head falls to the pillow with a thud, suddenly heavy but empty all at once. "Can we make music?"

I nod, only partially aware that Zayn just asked if we could make love.

My hips thrust upward ever so slightly but he reaches for my hips, his thumb grazing over my skin. His hand slips between my legs and I whimper as his fingers wrap around my length.

"You're precious Harry."

He presses a kiss to the corner of my lips and reaches for something on his nightstand. I make an effort to lift my head and sneak a peak. I feel so needy as I grip at his biceps, tugging him back between my legs. He kisses me briefly before liberally coating his fingers with lube.

"You okay love?"

"Never been better."

He smiles, his hand slipping between my legs.

"I...I've never done this," he admits shyly. "I always bottomed with Mason. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," I assure. "I'm telling you it's okay Zayn. I need this."

"Me too," he replies softly, lust swirling in his eyes.

He presses a finger inside of me and my body clenches, a moan passing my lips. My breath gets caught in my throat as a second finger glides in. Before I realize what's happening, I'm stroking myself slowly to alleviate the friction.

"Hey," he whispers. "I want to make you feel good," and he pouts so pitifully my hand stills.

My hips push down on his fingers, my cock straining again my chest. I'm undeniably hard, pre-come leaking from the tip.

He slides in a third finger and I whimper, my body going limp.

"Are you even real?"

In the moment I'm not even sure.

"So so beautiful."

His wrist twists, his fingers delving in deeper and my back arches off the bed.

a touch of skin  
soft but slippery  
with just a hint  
of sweat  
two pairs of eyes  
meeting,  
holding an intense gaze  
for just a brief moment  
abandoning   
all uncertainties  
heated tongues   
twirling,  
met in the midst  
of staggered  
shallow breaths  
and small pants,  
our slow rhythm  
giving way   
to demands  
and thrusts   
of passion  
my body arching  
as I moan  
until oblivion  
and you  
say my name  
deeply  
from the back  
of your throat

making  
my heart  
snag

He slides his finger out, ripping open a condom packet hungrily.

"Want you so bad," the words

t  
u  
m  
b  
l  
e

from my mouth

His fingers tremble as he slides it on, steadily positioning himself. I nod, giving him confirmation and he slowly thrusts in.

The sensation is so unfamiliar and painfully uncomfortable tears well at my eyes. My teeth sink into my bottom lip and his hand strokes at my forehead, pushing back some misplaced curls.

"We can stop. I don't want to hurt you, I-"

"Please," I beg. "Move."

So he does, bottoming out, his hips pressing against the back of my thighs. My mouth falls open in a silent moan.

He pulls out before thrusting back in, hard and fast. A thin sheen of sweat glistens at my hairline and my curls spill over my eyes.

"Wanna see you," he brushes my hair back and his lips skim over every inch of my body. When they find the side of my throat my pulse quickens and my nails dig into his arms, meeting every one of his deliberate thrusts.

He hits a bundle of nerves and I feel myself unhinging.

"Z-zayn, I'm close," I stammer, my eyelids squeezing shut. "Make music out of me, make music out of me, make music," I chant.

And there is music, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy, shallow breathing echoing off the walls. Moans and pants and mindless whispers

So good, so good, right there

I mutter his name again, a string of curse words falling from my lips.

"Don't come yet. Hold it there babe." He pulls back slightly and commands me to touch myself.

I wrap a hand around my cock and begin to stroke myself.

a fermata...

He grabs my hips, lifting them off the bed and pushing back inside of me, driving impossibly deeper than before. My mind goes blank and his movements grow lazy.

right before  
the grand   
crescendo

A filthy moan escapes my lips and I spill all over which is enough to make him come with me.

He discards the condom and I roll over, wrapping my arms around him. His fingers stroke my scalp, my eyelids fluttering closed.

"Your body sang for me," he murmurs "and it was beautiful."


	20. rainstorms and diminuendos

*mature

you touched me  
without   
using your hands,  
you touched me  
with your nimble  
and gentle fingers,  
plucking   
at my strings,  
my sound  
reverberating  
through the room

"Harry," Liam leans in close, his breath fanning across my neck. "Did you write that about someone?"

My face flushes as I quickly close my notebook shut. "Don't read my stuff."

He puts his hands up defensively. "Sorry Haz."

Zayn's eyes meet mine and he smiles, my heart tumbling over and over. I feel a heat spread to my cheeks and Liam's mouth goes slack.

"Oh my gosh," he whispers. "Mr. Malik." His fingers brush across my neck, misplacing some curls and revealing scattered love bites. "Holy sh-"

"Liam stop," I whine. "He can get in serious trouble."

"I'm not going to tell anyone."

...

"So you guys fucked?"

"Lou," I groan. "I'm serious guys, you can't tell anyone.

"We won't Har, our lips are sealed."

"You mean your mouth is full of food," Louis smirks.

"Okay stop it you two. Harry is in love. This is serious." Liam turns to me, a sympathetic look on his face. "I promise we won't ruin this for you."

"Was it good? Did he recite sensual poetry and shit?"

"Louis," I snap.

"I think it's cute," Niall chuckles. "Liam says he'll catch you staring in class."

"At what, his bum?"

Smack.

"Ow," Louis rubs at his shoulder, a deep frown on his face. "You're supposed to kiss me there Li, not slap me."

"I'll make it better tonight." Niall pretends to gag himself with his spoon and I let out a small laugh.

"I trust you guys, it's just...I've never felt this way before."

The rain pelts outside and beats a rhythm on the roof. I watch the raindrops shimmy down the window and smile to myself.

some people  
are born  
to be rainstorms,  
their voices  
falling raindrops,  
their hearts filled  
with passion  
that rumbles  
as fiercely  
as thunder,  
with smiles  
that strike   
your heart  
like lightning

the whole world  
runs for cover,  
hiding inside   
walls and  
under polka dot  
umbrellas  
but i embrace   
your storm  
as the gray skies  
open up

i make your  
thunder silent  
as i bite   
your tongue,  
wet with rain

they were   
so afraid  
of you  
but i loved   
you then

they took  
you for granted  
wishing for sun,  
so the leaves  
turned brown  
and dry,  
crunching   
beneath their feet  
and the grass   
burned up,  
rivers  
running dry

they prayed  
for rain  
but i had you  
all along,  
your moist lips  
parting mine,  
your booming  
presence  
in my life

some people  
are born  
to be rainstorms,  
chaotic and bold

without you  
my dear rainstorm...  
nothing beautiful  
would grow

I've never loved something quite like the rain.

"I hate the rain," Liam frowns.

My heart weeps for the storm that gives life and is still misunderstood.

My heart sobs for the storm because I know there's so much it wants to say but no one wants to listen. 

That's why it lights up the sky and jolts you awake with thundering sound.

"I think it's calming."

The bell rings, pulling me out of my reverie and I stumble mindlessly to my next class, my heart still drenched with rain.

...

We sit on the bench beneath the windowpane, his arms enveloping me.

The window clatters as the wind howls its song, a shrill cry in the midst of thunder.

It falls in steady sheets, never stopping for a second.

"This is what happens when we hush the sky. It doesn't want to hold its tongue, it wants to speak."

My fondness of rain grows stronger with each droplet that falls from his mouth.

"Kiss me," I mumble.

So he does, making it rain inside my mouth.

I taste the hot heat of his mouth.

t h e s o f t s o f t h e a t

My hands fist in his hair as I kiss back greedily. He slows things down, his tongue curling around mine and I could cry at the sweetness.

His hand moves down my sternum and splays over my hip beneath the thin material of my shirt.

And he shallows my moans, his fingers carding through my curls.

My hand moves to his upper thigh, my thumb rubbing circles into his jeans.

He pulls away, his knuckles brushing across the pale sliver of skin between my shirt and the waistband of my jeans.

"The world could be on fire and i wouldn't even notice. I wouldn't even care because I have you."

"And it isn't on fire," I confirm cheekily.

"Harry," he sighs. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"He wanted the ocean but I gave him the sea."

I could cry enough tears to drown an ocean.

"Wasn't that good enough?"

"Nothing is ever good enough," he gazes out the window, his face dejected.

He gets up suddenly and fumbles for a cigarette carton.

"It's pouring."

"Don't care," he mumbles and saunters outside.

smoke drifting  
into me  
and choking  
my heart

"You'll always be enough."

He taps out his cigarette with a sigh as I say

"i f   
y o u  
a r e  
t h e  
s e a  
i  
h o p e  
i  
n e v e r  
s e e  
l a n d  
a g a i n  
i   
w a n t  
t o  
g e t  
l o s t  
i n  
t h e  
c u r r e n t  
a n d  
h o p e   
t h a t  
t h e   
t i d e  
n e v e r  
p u l l s  
m e  
b a c k  
i n"

"I'm not him Zayn."

"I gave him the world," he winces. "But I wasn't his world."

"I was thinking, I've never really liked sand."

He chuckles, his eyes glimmering as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Me either," our noses bump together. "It's so irritating. Kind of like you but at least you're cute."

"Ouch, that punctured my heart "

"Wasn't aware you had one," he smirks.

"Well you should be, you occupy most of it."

"I may be your English teacher but you always know exactly what to say."

"Well you won't like this but I need to head home."

"Okay," he pouts and kisses my forehead. "Be safe."

"I'm just driving home Zayn."

"I'll say it again, be safe."

"I will," I sigh defeated.

"Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

One more quick kiss, this time to the cheek and I walk out the door with a jittery heart.

...

"Sorry mum, I was studying with Liam."

"It's okay," she kisses my forehead and informs me that dinner is in the oven. "Just be sure to call or text me next time."

"I know, I'm sorry. It slipped my mind."

She smooths out my ruffled curls, her fingers grazing over my neck.

"Harry," she says firmly. "Are these bite marks?"

"Mum," I groan.

"Who's the lucky girl? You aren't fooling around are you? If you are wrap it up."

I blush furiously and she just smiles knowingly.

"Don't freak out."

"Oh God Harry, if you got a girl pregnant. I'm kicking your lousy ass to the curb, you can-"

"I'm gay."

"Oh," her voice falters. "I guess I wasn't expecting that. I'm not mad at you. You're my baby."

She secures her arms around me and I let out a sigh of relief.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, jolting me and Zayn's name flashes across the screen.

I can't remember giving him my number.

She lets out a sigh as I head down the hallway to my room.

"Zayn?"

"Thank God you picked up!"

"How do you have my number?"

"I have a file of student's emergency contact information. That isn't the most romantic way to get someone's number," he chuckles.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just heard sirens close by and freaked out. I guess it's silly but I was worried about you. Hearing your voice is such a relief."

m  
y

f  
u  
c  
k  
i  
g

h  
e  
a  
r  
t

"This is the diminuendo."

"What?"

"You were the maestro and you made me crescendo."

I close my eyes, my breathing steady. My chest rises and falls as his voice fills my ears.

"Now it's getting gradually quieter," he whispers. "Can you experience a crescendo and diminuendo at the same time?"

"I don't think that's possible," I laugh.

"So the diminuendo directly follows the crescendo?"

"Precisely."

"Can I make you crescendo again?"

My heart thuds against my chest. I make sure my door is closed and respond in a hushed tone "are you hard?"

"A little yeah. I'm stroking myself right now," he giggles.

"Are you drunk on a Monday night?"

I can feel him pout through the line. "I'm lonely. Please babe."

"You're the worst teacher ever. This is completely inappropriate."

But my free hand trembles as he murmurs through the line.

"Pretend it's my hand, I'm caressing your cheek, bringing my finger down to your jaw."

spine  
tingling,  
sighing  
as my  
eyelids  
flutter  
closed

"It's moving to your neck and your chest. I'm fondling your nipples."

mouth  
falling open  
rolling my  
sensitive  
pink bud  
between   
long, pale  
fingers

"Just rub gently babe and give a little squeeze."

A small whimper escapes my lips and I pick up on his shallow breathing coming through the line. 

"What I would do to suck them."

visualizing  
his cherry red  
lips,  
forming   
a tiny 'o'  
his teeth  
gently grazing

"My hand travels lower, admiring your inked skin, that butterfly and those little leaves."

How does he remember so distinctly?

My eyes open for a moment as I peek at my tattoos.

"Tease yourself babe, trail your finger down your toned abs. Have you reached that little trail of hair a your belly button?"

He has every inch of me memorized.

"Yes, Zayn."

"Lower babe. Slowly, slowly. Don't rush love. My hand wraps around your member."

My now throbbing member. It pulsates as my breathing grows heavy.

"I'm stroking up and down, over and over and over-" his soothing voice keeps flowing and I feel lightheaded. "I want you, my star. Burst for me."

I can't believe I'm masturbating and I certainly can't believe I'm having phone sex with my teacher.

"I bet you look like a mess, such a beautiful mess."

I shiver as his voice grows raspy, laden with lust.

I begin fucking my fists the friction unbearable.

"Ohh God Zayn. Z-zayn," his name falls from my lips in a moan.

"So beautiful," he echoes again.

Every muscle tenses as I clench up, my jaw clenching and toes splaying.

"Imagine me sucking you off, the warm, wet familiar heat of my mouth."

c  
r  
e  
s  
c  
e  
n  
d  
o

"Best Monday ever," he pants.

I gaze down at the come that spurted out onto my hand and my stomach.

What a damn mess.

The line grows silent, my room becoming still for several moments before he says in a hushed tone

"d i m i n u e n d o"


	21. scorch me

*mature 

"You're late Styles."

"It's your fault."

He leans across his table and whispers "I didn't even have to touch you."

A shiver runs down my spine as I find the courage to say, "you were wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"I had a decrescendo. You're the English teacher, look it up in the dictionary."

"Diminuendo has such a prettier ring to it, now take your seat."

That fucking smirk. He thinks he won this battle.

"Robert Frost guys. What do we know about him?"

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," Liam responds.

"Fantastic," he says enthusiastically. I'll never understand how someone can be so cheery this early in the morning and go off on a tangent about symbolism and the landscape of poetry.

I let out a small yawn and rest my head on my folded arms. 

"Harry, you aren't going to fall asleep during his lecture are you?"

"Shhhh, I'm just resting my eyes. I'll stay awake."

I lied.

I fucking fell asleep.

Fingers card through my hair and my head snaps up, meeting a pair of amused amber eyes.

"Nice nap?"

"Why didn't you wake me up," I frown. "I'm sorry, you're obviously not boring, I just-"

"You talk entirely too much Harry. Breathe."

I let out a nervous laugh as his lips tug upward into a smile.

"I figured you were tired. I know I'm not being very fair because I normally don't do this for students but I'll send you my lecture notes."

I give a lopsided grin and he pokes at my dimples.

"Thank you," I blush furiously and twiddle with my thumbs.

"You're always an exception. By the way, I see no fault in saying diminuendo. A decrescendo and a diminuendo are very similar things. Then again, I teach English, not music theory," he adds cheekily.

"Nice save smartass."

"Don't you have another class to scurry off to?"

"Nah," I make a grand display of stretching, revealing the pale patch of skin beneath the hem of my shirt. "Besides, I've read Robert Frost stuff before, I don't think I missed anything."

"Just me flirting with Liam," he teases. "He's very fit."

"You think you're so funny."

"No, I know I'm funny. There's a difference."

"Teachers," I scoff. "Always acting too smart for their own good."

"Students," he sneers. "Always sleeping in class and doing anything for extra credit."

My mouth falls to the floor. "You did not go there."

He just chuckles lightly and pats my head. "There there Harry, it's all in good fun."

"Well...you enjoy it," I spurt back.

"If it was anybody else I would say no but here's the catch Harry," I hang onto every word.

"y  
o  
u

a  
r  
e

t  
h  
e

o  
n  
l  
y

o  
n  
e"

"I...can I come over tonight?"

"After you do your homework."

...

"Harry you didn't eat dinner last night. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I was just swamped with homework."

You're a terrible liar. You were jacking off to the sound of your teacher's voice. It's pathetic, to fantasize about your teacher scolding you, bending you over his desk.

snatching kisses  
soft,   
slow  
stroking  
and tan   
slivers   
of skin  
so sweet;  
my fingers  
feeling  
the heat  
of his scalp,  
his lips  
tracing  
my collarbone  
with   
the tip  
of his tongue,  
erections  
catching  
grinding  
grunting  
thrusting,  
until   
i come  
so hard  
i black out

"Just make sure you eat something tonight."

"Okay mum," I kiss her cheek and help her prepare the casserole.

"We haven't done this is forever," her eyes glisten with tears.

I don't want to take her for granted. I should hold onto moments like these.

"Let's bake," I suggest.

She throws her arms around me and I chuckle, thankful that she's happy and healthy.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything baby," she smiles.and ruffles my hair.

"Promise you won't get upset."

"You've given me a lot to be upset about in your eighteen years but I love you just the same."

I take a deep breaths collecting my thoughts and mustering the courage to say

"I think I'm in love."

Her fingers are coated in flour, she stops rolling out some dough and turns to me, her mouth forming a tight line.

"You're my baby Harry."

Her lip wobbles so I cling to her.

She latches on tightly, her tears soaking my shirt sleeve.

"It's fine. I'm eighteen. We have plenty of time to burn cookies together."

"Oh no, not on my watch," she beams proudly. "Golden brown."

"I'm not leaving anytime soon but I know this is more than a crush. It's deeper than that."

"All I want is for you to be happy and to live a life twice as blessed as mine. I hope he sees what I see in you. You've always admired the simple things in life and I'm thankful for that. I'm proud I raised a son that can find the beauty in everything."

"I love you. I know I don't say it enough."

"You prove it to me and that means so much more."

...

"The lump is getting smaller. She's not going through with the chemo."

I trace mindless circles on his back before my hands move to his tense shoulders, kneading his tender flesh.

"Cookies and a massage? Are you making up for sleeping in class?"

"Maybe," I kiss his neck. "Or maybe I just love you."

"I prefer the latter," he chuckles.

"Me too," I hum in agreement. "I told you I had a good feeling Zayn. I'm not sure miracles exist but your mum is a miraculous woman."

His eyes close as my nose nuzzles against the nape of his neck, right beneath his hairline. My fingers trail

s l o w l y

down his spine and chills sprout up across his skin.

"I'm so sleepy. This must have been how you felt in my class."

I laugh lightly, my lips skimming over his skin.

"I think I know how to wake you up," my voice is a mere whisper.

The room is still, two synchronized heartbeats and shallow breaths the only sound.

"Sounds tempting. Are you always this good with your hands?"

"You're feisty."

"your touch  
is poetry  
so let   
your fingers  
leave lines  
upon  
my skin"

I'll do anything. I want every brush and stroke of my fingers to write letters on his warm skin.

I love you.

It's just us.

Just us.

Just us in the moonlight. You look so beautiful Zayn, a glint of light on the tip of your nose

like a dab of white paint, beams of light illuminating your cheeks

You're a masterpiece

I'm just admiring you

My fingers don't miss an inch of my skin as I gently tug off his shirt. He fumbles with his zipper and manages to pull his jeans off. I'm trembling myself as my fingers reach the waistband of his underwear. This isn't new to me, I just always grow nervous when he looks at me. He smiles reassuringly as if to say I love you Harry, don't be afraid. So my voice quivers as I say

"I will touch you and touch and touch  
until you give  
me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene

(i will  
touch you with my mind.)Touch  
you, that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become  
with infinite care

the poem which i do not write."

"Harry," he sighs.

My lips find his.

It's where they go if they're ever astray.

That's where they belong.

He pulls away and kneels in front of me, straddling my lap and titling his head, altering the angle. I moan deep into his throat as his thumbs press to my chin, forcing my mouth open. I grab at his thighs, gripping tightly as his tongue dips into my mouth.

Moonlight falls over one side of his face and casts shadows that dance on the walls.

He's rough this time, his tongue grazing the roof of my mouth, just barely touching my tongue before tracing my lips. My fingers dig into his thighs absent-mindedly but it also seems to make his member stir beneath me. I feel his arousal grow as his tongue drags along my lower lip, his teeth tugging.

I whimper and he pulls away before positioning himself in my lap. He smiles, his lips slightly swollen, his hips grinding down against me. My eyes flutter shut and his thumbs trace over my collarbone before pressing lightly, applying pressure around my throat.

My breathing shallows and my pulse quickens as he pushes a bit harder, constraining my breath until I'm completely hard beneath him.

He releases the pressure, his hands sliding to my chest and stopping at my waist.

I recapture my breath and in a haze my jeans come off. His finger circles around my nipple and travels down my chest.

"No, it's my turn."

My heart pounds in my eardrums as I reach for his cock, fisting the base, stroking him lightly.

His mouth parts and I press a kiss to the side of his throat. He licks his lips so I trace over them with mine, my fingers tangling in his hair. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bite down roughly.

"Harry," he moans as I pull away. "Let me touch you now."

Two fingers slip between my lips and my tongue darts out, sliding between them to slick them up. His fingertips press to my hole as he says

"i want you  
to remember  
the outline  
of my lips  
and my fingers  
stretching you open,  
the way my touch  
sears your exterior  
like molten lava  
let me set this room  
on fire,  
and burn you  
with my touch"

He slides two fingers in and I suck in a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I bush back against his fingers so he kisses the base of my neck and trails his tongue down my body. All the way to the juncture where my thigh meets my pelvis. I gasp and press up against the friction. His nails dig at my thighs as he presses a few kisses there.

He taps gently at my knees and they raise as he presses a kiss to the base of my cock before his tongue darts to my hole. It slides in alongside his fingers and my back arches.

A third finger is added and I clench around him as his tongue moves more diligently.

I can feel my climax building, I'm almost to the edge, about to reach my peak when he stop, running his tongue up the base of my leaking cock.

"Zayn please," I whimper.

"I don't have any lube."

"I'm sorry I slept in class. Please punish me, please-"

He thrusts in deeply and i gasp at the sensation that washes over me. His hand wraps around my member, his thumb swiping over my head

o n c e  
t w i c e   
t h r e e  
t i m e s

as I clench around him, moaning his name

crescendo

as he strokes my oversensitive bundle of nerves

a few lazy thrusts later and Zayn comes, spilling inside of me with a small groan

My finger dips inside of myself and I curse at the sensitivity.

Full and empty.

Empty and full.

His fingers trace over my knuckles, visible outside of my body and they brush last, slipping in next to mine.

My cock twitches as I let out a frustrated groan. It's too soon. Harry.

You horny son of a bitch.

But then he adds another finger, stretching me impossibly wider. He crooks his wrist, the tip of his finger brushing over the soot that sends a wave of shivers down my spine. I pant until I'm hard and leaking again.

His lips wrap around the head of my cock, fingering me slowly as his mouth slides further down.   
I'm falling apart, curse words spilling from my lips, incoherent and broken. I weakly push my hips up and be moans around me, I tug at his hair as I come a second time, utterly spent.

He pulls away and gently pulls his fingers out. I reach for him and in a horse whisper beckon him, wanting to be in his arms.

"I'm here love, m'just going to clean you up okay." He presses a haste kiss to my mouth and I hear running water in the bathroom.

He comes back, pressing a cold flannel to the inside of my thighs. I whimper as it grazes over my sore hole. He sighs and tosses it aside curling up beside me, his fingers carding through my hair. I nuzzle against him and decide

being scorched by Zayn is the best pain I have ever experienced.


	22. opium

"Babe, are you still awake?" Beb.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I can't fall asleep. We need to go to bed though. It's late." I kiss his forehead and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

"I have nightmares. I'm fucking twenty-four Harry, it's pathetic." Harreh.

"Hey," I murmur. "It's okay. Want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"I love you." My finger traces his lip, grazing over the indentions his teeth made. "Your lip is going to bleed Zayn."

And I kiss him softly, our lips barely touching. They're just skimming, reveling in the beautiful idea that they were made to be together. My tongue darts out, capturing his sweet taste, feeling the texture of his lip and the dip of his cupid's bow.

I try to savor the kiss, my tounge trailing over his when his mouth parts for me. My fingers get lost in his soft watermelon seed hair.

When our lips disconnect our eyes meet and tell a story.

His soft honey colored irises say I love you too

The whites of his eyes say trust me, I want to tell you

His black pupils send a more ominous message. I'm afraid you won't want to know what haunts me at night

My emerald eyes echo back it's okay to be scared, I won't make you tell me

The whites of my eyes say but if you want to you can, you know I would never hurt you

And the little black dots say I have secrets too

He blinks slowly, his long lashes fluttering and everything has changed.

Let's spill our secrets in the solace of the dark. Skin touching skin, hearts beating as one, shedding light on the darkest parts of our souls, casting out demons.

So my eyes reply I'll go first.

"I'm not sure if I was using Sam or she was using me but I didn't care. We just mindlessly fucked."

"Harry-"

"No Zayn, I wanted to feel something but I was just numb. I thought getting drunk in stranger's houses and body shots would make me feel alive. Stupid games of spin the bottle and never have I ever but it didn't do it for me. God, I didn't even care about your class...such a fucking loser."

"Hey, don't talk that way," his fingers brush through the tangles in my curls. "My dad was extremely unnerved when I told him I was gay and I wanted his acceptance. I was really depressed so Mason and I fooled around a lot and got into drugs. We were just doing things for the thrill. I was addicted to Adderall," he admits.

"Did you just take it for fun or to treat something?"

"ADHD," he sighs. "I've never told anyone about this but it felt so euphoric and it increased my sex drive so I didn't think anything of it. Then I got into other drugs and things spiraled out of control. I was always paranoid and I started having hallucinations. Mason threatened to leave so I suffered from insomnia and my appetite decreased so I lost a lot of weight."

"You're blaming yourself for Mason cheating on you?"

"I don't know Harry," he groans. "Maybe."

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No, hell no. Don't be worried about that babe," he strokes my cheek so I let the absurd thought slip from my mind. "I just made a lot of mistakes when we were dating."

"That isn't an excuse for him to cheat. He should have helped you. I would do anything for you. He just abandoned you when you needed him most."

That's what people do, my mind chides. But my heart doesn't listen.

"Then I guess he never truly loved me and it was for the better."

he's too  
full of life  
to be half loved

being with  
a boy  
who couldn't  
find beauty  
in the ugliest  
parts of him  
was just  
an exquisite  
form  
of self  
destruction

the medicine  
was just  
a crutch  
to help him  
stand   
on bitter lies  
and broken  
promises

thoughts  
can be  
as dangerous  
as blades,  
words  
as potent  
as poison

warm sheets  
and unfeeling  
lips,  
cold smoke  
seeping  
out of  
colder throats

lie to me  
again  
he asked  
to which  
he replied  
"i love you"

please  
help me;  
fix me,  
he begged

i'm broken.

where   
are you   
going  
so late   
at night  
when   
my vision  
is blurred  
with tears  
and my  
mind   
is blank

"nowhere"  
"i love you"  
"i love-"

please,  
he pleaded  
these pills  
are  
my only friend

you hate me  
everyone  
hates me  
the world  
hates me  
it's malevolent,  
mocking  
my pain  
and laughing   
out of   
spite

hot tears  
and trashing  
on the bed,  
this isn't love  
he yelled  
this isn't life  
he screamed  
but he didn't   
listen

nobody  
ever   
listens

"Tell me about lyrics from your favorite songs and why you're closer to your mum than your dad. Tell me about pages in books you have dog-eared and their well worn spines. Tell me anything. Tell me everything. Just please let me be the one," I breathe.

"You are."

I'm delirious, my head spinning as he leans in, brushing hair out of my face, his lips capturing mine.

Opium.

So addictive my heart is thudding loud, pounding in my eardrums and my mind is hazy. A rush courses through my veins like I'm being injected. My cheeks grow warm; my skin flushing.

stealing  
me away  
with his eyes,  
his mouth,  
staring at me  
with   
the lights out

i was  
kissing strangers  
in the night  
just to feel   
something  
just to feel  
something

t o u c h  
m e  
t h e r e

oooohhh  
ooohhh  
oohhh  
ohh  
op  
opi  
opiu  
opium

just to feel something

i don't need it  
i don't need  
i don't

just to feel something

"Harry" he moans into my mouth, warm air hitting the back of my throat.

"When you are so broken and he has left you, do not question whether you were enough, the problem was you were so enough he was not able to carry it."

"Rupi Kaur," he licks his lips and presses his forehead to mine. "You know, I used to bite my tongue and torch my dreams."

I give him a confused look and he chuckles, kissing the tip of my nose.

"Now you bite my tongue and you are my dream."


	23. details

"Zayn," I whisper.

He looks so content, his cheek creased upon the pillow, his long lashes brushing over his tan skin. His hair is a ruffled mess so I chuckle and reach for my phone on the bedside table, snapping a picture.

My mind takes a mental picture, never wanting to forget the way he looks, so peaceful, his chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath. My heart captures the moment, fluttering as he opens his eyes.

"G'morning babe," he mumbles and gives a sheepish smile.

I can't resist the urge to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I haven't brushed my teeth," he grumbles.

"And I care because?"

"You're sassy."

I just give a dimpled smile and tug him up out of bed.

"I made cinnamon rolls."

He arches his brows, his nose scrunching as he detects the sweet smell.

"I bake with my mum all the time so I thought I'd make something for you."

He looks very impressed as be bites into a golden brown bun, the icing spilling over the edge. "This is delicious Harry."

"As sweet as me?"

"Almost," he grins. "But not quite."

He brews some coffee and I wrap my arms around him, my head resting on his shoulder.

"I could get used to this."

"Me too. Only if I get to see you in your boxers every morning though."

My cheeks redden and he turns to kiss me, the sweet taste of icing still lingering on his lips.

I chase them hungrily, convinced that it's never enough. We're always too far apart.

but even  
when   
our bodies  
are apart  
our hearts  
are   
always   
touching

"Shit Zayn."

"What's wrong love?"

"How am I going to get to school?" He laughs at me, his arms fastening around my waist.

"I'll drive you babe."

"Zayn you can't just drive me to school. You're my teacher. If someone sees us together they'll get suspicious."

"Lie, lie, deny," he smirks. "Oh woe is me, I have a flat tire."

"I can't believe you're telling me to lie about it," my body shakes with laughter. "So I'm going to say I was having car trouble and you just happened to stumble across me? Likely story."

"Fine," he huffs. "Call one of your crazy mates and have them pick you up."

"You're so stubborn. Maybe I'll say something about my car battery not starting, that sounds more believable."

...

"Harry stop," he exclaims. A fit of giggles overtake me as I change the station back. "Harry I swear!"

"What are you going to do, attack me with your mouth?"

"Don't tempt me. We are not listening to The Rolling Stones in my car."

I poke my tongue out at him as the Red Hot Chili Peppers spurt out the speakers. "Really Zayn?"

"I like this station. Besides, I don't pick the songs. Just shut up and enjoy the music," he snaps.

"Grrr."

He lets out an agitated sigh, running a hand through his hair at a red light. "Sorry. I haven't had a cigarette in ages."

"That's such a hyperbole."

"It's so sexy when you use literary terms."

Well, that's new.

"I know a lot of euphemisms," I boast.

"Oh do you?"

"I always say I have a temporary negative cash flow because it's a more refined way of saying I'm broke as fuck."

He looks over at me, a smile splaying on his face. "A certified pre-owned car is literally just a used car but I suppose it doesn't sound as appealing."

"My diction is great too."

"You're cocky today."

"Your class is so boring I want to poke my eyes out."

He frowns, "that bad is it?"

"Just kidding, I want to gouge my eyes out."

"Oi, that's even worse," he slaps at my arm playfully. "Try a simile."

"I'm like a needle  
and t h r e a d  
sewing myself  
back   
together   
over and over and over again."

He pulls into the faculty lot, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Now I really want to kiss you but I can't."

"Tonight," our eyes meet, his flickering with excitement. My heart is giddy with anticipation. We're beside each other but I'm already planning when we'll be together again.

His fingers brush over my hand for just a moment before he opens the car door and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

"Is where space ends called death or infinity?"

This spurs a twenty minute debate in class but I just smile to myself, noting how much Zayn admires Pablo Neruda.

the space  
between us  
punctures  
my heart,  
feels  
a light-year  
away   
but   
i don't  
have   
that   
much   
t i m e

"Meraki," my head pops up, my eyes searching his before he turns to write it down on the board. "Doing something with creativity and love; putting a piece of yourself into your work. That what I want from all of you on this next assignment. It will be fairly simple, just a compilation of poems about yourself."

He drones on about the assignment details as the wheels churn in my head.

I wait patiently for the bell and Zayn skims over my notebook, flicking through the pages; reading what my heart has poured out onto the page, ink staining my fingers.

you tell me to quiet down cause  
my opinions make me less beautiful  
but i was not made with a fire in my belly  
so i could be put out   
i was not made with a lightness in my tongue   
so i could be easy to swallow  
i was made heavy  
half blade and half silk  
difficult to forget but  
not easy for the mind to follow

"You'll have to give me a hint Harry."

"Rupi Kaur again."

"Ah figures, come back after your last class and I'll drive you home."

"Um, can we just go to your place?"

He contemplates for a minute, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, sure. You'll have your backpack. Do your homework and then we can watch a movie. No fooling around, okay?"

"I promise. Are you free during lunch today?"

He shakes his head and shuffles through some papers. "Why babe?"

"I'm leaving campus. I'll get you something."

"You really don't have to Harry."

"I want to."

He smiles softly and kisses me cheek, his eyes sparkling. "Are you excited about this assignment or do you think it's lame?"

"I think you worry too much about what other people think."

...

"Did you go to that place on Sixth Street?"

I nod as he munches on his samosas and steal one off his plate. He pouts and I giggle before taking a sip of my tea.

"How did you know?"

I'm too timid to admit that my brain memorizes all the small details about him. The way his words run together when he's excited or he mumbles when he's nervous. The way his fingers slip through his hair when he's in deep thought and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips. The way he fiddles with his pen or clicks the cap of his dry erase markers. The way he gazes out the window when something strikes a chord with him and he takes a moment to let it seep in.

I've picked up on subtle things and what he likes. His favorite highlighter is bright green and he has a weird obsession with stapling things. I'm convinced he just likes the sound it makes when it punches through papers. He also doesn't believe in erasers, he just scribbles out his mistakes and moves on hurriedly, more thoughts pouring out onto pages.

All of his quirks and flaws are so astoundingly beautiful. If I told him he wouldn't agree.

Nobody ever realizes that the things that make them unique are the most unforgettable.

After all that thought I simply respond "I just know."

He kisses me insistently, his velvety smooth lips moving to my neck. His tongue tentatively leaves marks and I grow eager, nipping back with a sudden fierceness that could shake the world.

I'm transfixed, my feet planted so firmly to the ground I think I'll be stuck here for eternity.

And I'm yielding; relenting as his lips burn a fiery trail on my skin. I'm immersing myself in it, drowning in the scorching liquid but it doesn't matter. I'm melting into his arms. My body quakes as I become completely pliant. His lips assault my flesh and be nibbles on my ear.

My heart tumbles around in my chest like clothes in a washing machine.

Will it always be like this? Will my body always surrender to his touch? With every kiss I only plunge further. His lips capture mine again, his tongue delving into my mouth.

My heart tremors again and again as he pulls away, his eyes gleaming.

He's breathtaking. My fingers graze over the stubble sprouting on his chiseled jaw. His cheekbones are contoured; his skin bronzed and glowing.

Smoldering. Zayn is smoldering. Everything he does sets me on fire.

I scratch at his jaw and his eyelids flutter closed.

"Do you like that?"

He nods and my hands move to his head, massaging his scalp.

"I have to go to class Zayn. I'll see you tonight."

He pries his eyes open. They're dull now, the light gone.

"What's bothering you babe?"

"I'll miss you."

The meaning behind those words strikes me so hard my heart weeps.

...

Numb

feeling numb  
why am i not  
feeling more  
spitting out  
curses

too drunk   
to care  
but it hurts  
and  
i'm well aware  
you don't   
love me

Lessons

teacher   
teach  
me  
how  
to  
love  
again  
love  
again  
and   
again  
and  
again

"Harry these are really amazing," he praises and kisses my forehead. "Do you want to watch a movie now?"

"I would Zayn I'm too tired. I just want to take a shower," a small yawn escapes me

"That can be arranged," he chuckles.

And so I fall sound asleep, stretched out on his bed, my curls still damp.


	24. scars

"How are you going to get to school today?"

I groan and flip over, snuggling under the covers.

"I'm not going."

He chuckles and ruffles my hair. "Yes you are sweetheart."

"I'm sick," I cough. This makes him laugh harder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He tugs at my toes which makes me giggle. His eyes are bright, his smile cheery as he tickles the balls of my feet.

"Harryyyyy," he sings. "I made pancakes."

My ears perk and I shoot out of bed, my feet landing on the cold hardwood floor. I shiver and he saunters over to his dresser, giving me an oversized hoodie. I tug it on, inhaling the scent that lingers on it. Sweet like warm vanilla sugar, with just a touch of musk. I take another whiff, getting a faint trail of cigarette smoke. My nose nuzzles into the soft fabric and he sighs contently before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

"The pancakes are going to get cold babe."

I pull on some joggers and trail behind him into the kitchen.

"They're chocolate chip," I skip around excitedly and he rolls his eyes.

"I'm starting to think you don't need sugar this early."

"Noooo," I whine. "Give me all the sugar."

I pour on a bunch of syrup and squirt a pile of whipped cream.

"How old are you, seven?"

"Yes," I reply as I take a bite. "But I'm not the one wearing Batman underwear."

His face flushes and he grabs the whipped cream can, spraying it on my nose. I sit stunned for a moment, my ass glued to the chair.

"I had a lot of sugar too. Bring it on Curly."

I dip my fingers in the syrup, slipping them into his mouth. He moans around them, his tongue darting between the spaces.

It's too early for this but I don't care. My fingers pull out with a pop, our lips locking in place. His mouth tastes like hazelnut coffee.

I add chocolate and whipped cream to the mix as our tongues swirl.

When our lips disconnect I gasp for air, my hands clutching the corner of the kitchen table.

"Who's going to school?" He tilts his head, smirking.

"Me," I exhale.

"Good boy." He pats the top of my head and the rapid strumming of my heart starts to slow.

...

Giver

i gave you   
bursts of   
vivid color  
but you  
were  
colorblind  
i made   
sweet music  
to grace  
your ears  
but you   
blocked   
my sound

Punctuation

i became  
quotation  
marks  
inverted  
and   
upside down  
clinging  
to words  
that   
were not   
mine,  
hanging  
onto  
ideas  
that   
were not  
my own

you were  
an exclamation  
mark  
bold and proud  
i envied you  
and tried   
to please you  
but we   
were just  
too different  
sometimes   
falling  
on  
a  
d i f f e r e n t  
page

 

Read Me

tell me  
someone  
cares enough  
to pick  
me up  
off the shelf  
pages torn  
spine worn  
and dusty

you found  
me  
called me  
well loved  
but i'm   
just tattered

your gentle  
fingers  
flicked  
through  
every page  
your tears  
staining  
the crinkled  
paper,  
your pen  
marking  
my passages  
annotating  
my margins  
and bookmarking  
the deepest  
parts of me,  
where i used to  
collect dust

Words

if blades  
can cut  
through skin  
the words  
she spoke  
to me  
were surely  
sharp enough  
to kill

Sex

when   
my body  
hangs   
lifelessly  
from  
a rope  
maybe  
she'll  
understand  
just how   
much  
i felt  
when  
our bodies   
touched;  
limp  
and  
exhausted  
ready  
for  
r  
e  
l  
e  
a  
s  
e

Sprout

we planted  
a seed  
in our  
garden  
but   
never   
watered it

Mess

sleeping  
with you  
because  
my bed   
is cold  
and i  
like the warmth  
your body  
provides

Alcohol

i like  
setting  
fire   
to my insides  
and letting  
scotch  
trickle  
into  
my mouth  
and I like  
letting  
vodka burn  
the back  
as it goes  
down the back  
of my throat

Drugs

i coughed  
when i  
took   
my first  
hit  
it made  
my eyes   
water  
but i  
thought  
i was cool

Boyhood

i  
never  
reached  
for  
the  
s  
t  
a  
r  
s  
i just  
strained  
my thumbs  
playing  
mindless   
video games  
and pretended  
to be  
someone   
i wasn't,  
slipping  
my hands  
up   
under skirts

I scribble away until the bell rings, my pen scratching across my paper. His knuckles rap lightly on my desk and I glance up.

"Are you going to stay in here all day?"

"No, I just-"

My brain falters, all logical explanations soaring out the window. How do I tell him I was pouring my heart onto pages of in spiral notebook?

I don't have to because he picks it up and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Sex," his voice cracks. "I don't like that one. Do you still feel that way?"

I shake my head silently as his hand reaches for mine, pulling my sleeves back.

"Why did I never notice these scars Harry? I feel so damn stupid."

"It's nothing Zayn."

"Are you nothing? I don't think so."

His thumbs trace over the faded marks on my wrist. They're so faint I'm not surprised he just now discovered them.

"That was a long time ago."

my heart  
has scars  
that aren't  
so easily  
visible

"Talk to me babe."

I press the heels of my hands to my eyelids, groaning. He moves my hands, peppering kisses all over my face.

"I love you."

I smile back reassuringly, the words coming from the bottom of my heart, "I love you too."

...

"I've never seen you wear a headband. You look really tired."

"Well thanks," he jokes.

 

I pull him closer to me, my hand slipping around his waist. He's so skinny I cringe.

"Zayn," I say softly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you eating?"

"Of course love," he offers a little smile and I let myself relax. He pecks my lips and it's enough to bring me temporary comfort.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I turn the key in the lock and he waves goodbye.

My heart sinks, fear suddenly overcoming me. We won't even be apart long but it feels so wrong. I want to be near him. I'm afraid he'll suddenly disappear.

"Tomorrow," he confirms with a grin. "Read pages 86-93."

I laugh promising that I will and he gets in his car, peeling out of the driveway.

"Hey mum," I greet her with a kiss.

"Harry where were you last night?"

"Niall's," I spurt out. "He ate way too much food as usual, played video games until my thumbs felt numb. I didn't mean to fall asleep but I was exhausted."

I might be a horrible person.

"That's okay baby, you just need to tell me these things. I worry. I thought you were at a pub or some wild party you kids throw."

"I'm almost nineteen."

"You're growing up too fast." I sigh as she kisses my forehead.

I fold some clean clothes while she pulls some food out of the oven.

"I'll do the dishes tonight to make it up to you."

She laughs telling me I should always do the dishes.

I should do a lot of things that I don't.

You just never know.


	25. news

"Hey, hey move," I push through the large crowd congregating in the hallway.

"Niall," I shout, spotting his bleach blonde head of hair in the mass of people. "What's going on?"

"Dunno, everyone is in a frenzy."

buzzing like some heat maddened fly

I'm in trouble, I think. Everyone knows. They know about Zayn and I. I start sweating profusely, beads of sweat collecting at my temple.

Then I see a flicker of fiery red hair out the corner of my eye.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Are my eyes deceiving me or are people staring daggers? Are they whispering about me? How could they know?

I told the lads but surely they didn't tell anyone. Maybe someone saw us together. I warned Zayn that we needed to be careful...Sam. If she knew she'd exploit us immediately. The bitch probably told the whole school.

"Ed," I say breathlessly. "What in the hell is the meaning of this?"

"You don't know?"

I shake my head confused, blurting out words. "Fuck," I tug at my curls.

I'm in so much trouble. I could get expelled. He probably lost his job. Oh god. My stomach wrenches and I nearly hurl, my legs wobbling.

He steadies me, his eyes searching mine. "Harry, what are you to Zayn?"

"I...we're nothing I swear," I spit out.

The bitter lies keep sputtering out. "I don't know what is happening right now. Frankly, I don't care. I have my own problems."

Lies. Lies. Fucking lies. Of course I care. My heart is pounding so loud I can't think straight. I can barely breathe and he knows.

He knows.

I clutch onto him, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over me.

"Harry," his voice is muffled.

There's a ringing in my ears that won't stop. The outline of his face blurs as a tightness grows in my chest, like someone tied a rope around it and is pulling it tauntly, restricting my breathing.

His lips are moving, forming words that sound like silence. He waves his hand frantically in front of my face and everything is spinning.

All the faces, the walls, my heart.

Spinning like a carousel.

And I'm unbelievably dizzy.

First spin on a Ferris Wheel dizzy. Trying to dance after three beers dizzy

I see spots of color. Blobs that are actually backpacks, moving squares that are just the floor tiles and blaring lights that usually seemed so dim.

And then everything goes black.

...

"Are ye hungry Har?" Niall munches on a bag of crisps as Louis and Liam whisper, Liam's hand placed comfortingly over his boyfriend's knee.

"You need some water Haz." Louis hands me a bottled water which I chug down, my throat feeling as dry and arid as the desert.

"Am I in trouble?"

Liam knits his brows together. "Why would you be in trouble for passing out?"

"No," I say hoarsely. "The thing with Mr. Malik."

"You didn't give him the pills did you Harry? Were you together last night? I thought you were home. If you were at his place that changes everything."

Now it's my turn to furrow my brows in confusion. Pills?

"Liam," I say exasperated. "What are you talking about?"

"Opioids."

"W-what," I stammer.

"He was hospitalized Harry. You were running late today but I figured you already knew considering how close you two are."

"Why?"

"Has he been unhappy lately?"

I thought he was fine. We just talked about this, he told me it was all in the past. He assured me he was okay, that he had me and I was his medicine.

It doesn't make sense. His mum is recovering, our bond was growing stronger, his job is going fine. Am I missing something?

Think Harry.

It would explain his weight loss but when did this start happening? Was he taking the pills the whole time?

He lied to me.

He lied to make me feel better.

He lied and shattered my heart and I don't have the energy to pick up the pieces. I don't want to fight it.

So I just cry. Cry until my eyes are raw and my nose is cherry red.

Sobs that rack my body, that rattle me to the core. Tears that make Niall drop his food and pull me into his arms.

Tears that fill my chest like waves, making my heart drift.

Tears and tears and unspoken fears.

I should have gotten in the car with him. We should have bickered over radio stations and recited poetry. We should have fought about smoking as he lit up a cigarette. We should have laughed and smiled and shared secrets. We should have finally agreed on a song, singing it at the top of our lungs. We should have had food on the couch and watched sappy movies. We should have cuddled under blankets. We should have slept together, limbs entangled, fingers entwined.

I should have been there, rummaging through his medicine cabinet, disposing of pill boxes. I should have kissed him.

His kisses are my drug.

I should have told him again for good measure I love you.

I've told him countless times but it's never enough.

I can't make him happy but I try.

I try so fucking hard.

sepia tones  
and salty   
tears  
i just want   
to say  
that i  
love you  
with a love  
so strong  
it could  
move   
mountains  
and part   
the sea

"I'm going," I hiccup. "To visit him and nobody is going to stop me."

...

"Family only, sorry."

"Dammit, I am family," I growl.

Trisha comes out of the room, her face haggard and eyes puffy.

"Harry, baby," she exclaims and draws me into her arms.

The doctor gives a knowing look but Trisha's tone is assertive and her words persuasive. "You will let him see my son, if it's the last thing you do."

His body stiffens and he clears his throat nervously.

"Yes ma'am."

My heart thuds in my chest as she clutches onto my hand and opens the door.

It's too sterile. It smells like lemon cleaner and the stark white walls are too bright. I squint my eyes and let them adjust.

They land on the the figure laying on the crumpled linen sheets. He looks so pale my breath hitches.

"Zayn," my voice cracks.

I can't get any sound out, I just choke on the words jumbled up in my throat. My fingers brush back his feather-like quiff, stroking his forehead.

"I'm sorry I wasn't enough."

"Harry, you're all he ever talks about. He loves you. I have no doubts about that. You are enough."

"Why," I exhale shakily.

"I don't know honey. I thought he was getting better. I don't understand."

Why is none of this adding up?

The bed moves slightly and my heart nearly pounds out of his chest as his eyelids pry open.

"Harry?"

His body quivers as he sits up.

"You lied to me," I spit my words out like venom.

"Harry please," he pleads. "Don't be this way."

"No," my body trembles. "You told me you stopped. You said you were better."

I try to fight the warm tears brimming my eyes but can't keep them at bay.

"Babe, don't cry."

"Do you love me Zayn?"

"Of course I do."

He knows what's coming when I ask "why did you do it? Everyone knows you overdosed on drugs. You could have died Zayn!"

"I'm aware."

"I thought everyone knew about our relationship. I was so worried, then my mates told me you were in the fucking hospital! That's even worse."

"Harry I took the dosage my doctor told me to, honest to God."

"I don't believe you."

He grabs for my hand. "I swear I-"

"You took the right dosage," I crane my head to see the doctor writing something on a clipboard. "But you neglected to inform your doctor that you were also taking antidepressants."

"What was he taking?"

"Oxycodone. He had a prescription but you shouldn't take it in conjunction with antidepressants or sleeping pills."

"Zayn," I say softly. "I didn't know you were on antidepressants."

"Your heartbeat was dangerously slow, that's why you had a seizure."

"A seizure?"

"Mr. Malik," the doctor brushes my concern aside. "You've had drug abuse problems in the past. Am I correct?"

"Yes. I was taking Adderall."

"Oxycodone is highly habit conforming. It's easy to become addicted. Make sure you only take the amount listed on the label. Don't crush or inject the medicine and do not take it with anything else."

When he leaves it's eerily silent, the silence hanging thickly and heavily in the air, nearly choking me.

"I told you I didn't overdose Harry."

He traces circles on my hand and I release a breath.

"I'm sorry, I figured-"

"I love you, okay? If I was unhappy I would tell you but I'm not. You're all I need."

He presses his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumbs collecting my teardrops.

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. I promise."


	26. (un)steady

*mature content

"He's fine. You're fine. Lighten up Harry."

"I shouldn't be here. He just got out of the hospital."

"Come on," Louis groans. "You never hang with us anymore. Just a few drinks."

"I should be with him to make sure-"

He rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "That was a week ago. Besides, he's a grown man. It's a Saturday night. Live a little."

"Har, he's probably tired of you worrying. You're making things worse," Niall convinces.

That isn't enough so I turn to Liam who nods in agreement and says "I think you can live one day without stressing about him. He isn't going to overdose and he isn't going anywhere. He made a promise."

I inhale sharply, the strum of the beat making my feet electric, my pulse quickening.

"You haven't been out in ages Haz."

So I start with one drink and my body buzzes. Adrenaline courses through my veins as my hips sway to the beat. I tell a shitty joke and Niall throws back his head in laughter.

my tongue  
slipping  
and sputtering  
forming  
incoherent   
thoughts,  
my body  
clumsy,  
empty   
shot glasses  
and an  
empty mind,  
my hands   
reaching  
for something  
unattainable

One drink turns into a couple and then I lose count.

"H-hey," I slur to Liam.

He's still stone cold sober, trying to put up with Lou's antics as he grinds up against him, complaining about his growing erection. Liam's cheeks redden and his tongue flicks over his bottom lip before he leans down to whisper something in his boyfriend's ear. Louis smiles satisfied and slumps into his arms.

"Harry I don't think you should have another."

"I wanna see him," I manage to get off the bar stool and stumble a bit, gripping onto the countertop.

"He wouldn't want to see you in this state. I'll drive you home."

"No, my mum," I whine.

"We can all go back to my place."

"Noooo, please Li. I want to see him." I tug on his shirtsleeve like a child and he sighs.

"Fine. I'll drop you off there but don't blame me if he lashes out."

"Why," I pout. "I'm cute. He'll be happy to see me."

"Right," he replies flatly.

But Liam is true to his word as he leads me to Zayn's place.

"This is where Mr. Malik lives? It's so...industrial, I was expecting something more quaint."

I shrug him off as he knocks on the door. Zayn opens it up surprised, his hair disheveled. He's barefoot, wearing distressed gray jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt. Liam scratches the back of his neck nervously, trying to muster up some excuse.

"Sorry. I told him not to bother you like this but he's...I dunno."

"Persistent," Zayn finishes.

"Exactly," he chuckles and Zayn grabs my hand, pulling me through the doorway.

"Thank you for looking out for him Liam."

"It was nothing, I guess I'll see you on Monday."

"That was awkward," I giggle, my fingers getting lost in his quiff.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"What are you going to do to me," I breathe hotly into his ear.

"Sit," he motions for me to sit on the couch so I plop down, my body melting into the cushions.

I'm suddenly exhausted, my head heavy.

"Here babe," he sets a glass of water and two pills on the coffee table.

"I don't wanna."

"Harry," he coaxes. "Your head won't stop hurting until you take the medicine."

"It's scary."

He sighs, pulling me into his arms.

"You don't have to be scared. Everything is okay. I'm better now. Just take the medicine so you'll feel better."

His thumbs rub circles into my back and my head droops to his shoulder. He runs his fingers through my curls and I whimper at the touch.

My head is pounding and my chest feels heavy, like someone dumped a load of bricks inside of me.

"Are you sleepy babe?"

I struggle to nod and he chuckles. "You're such a mess. I should be mad at you right now."

"How could you ever be mad at me," I smile sheepishly.

"Well, I might get upset if you refuse to take your medicine."

"I can't shallow anything."

"Then how did you down all of your drinks?"

I scowl at him but he doesn't give in and says just the right thing to persuade me.

"Take your medicine and I'll kiss you."

It's so tempting I quickly shallow the pills and flush them down with water.

"Good boy," he praises.

But then he gets up off the couch, a smirk on his face.

"No fair," I pout and fumble for the hem of his shirt "Zaynie, come back."

He stops dead in his track, his eyes flickering with amusement.

"Zaynie?"

I giggle and it's enough to draw him back.

"I'm really horny," my hand palms at my jeans and he chuckles, moving it away.

"I can see that."

"Will you help me?"

"Nope."

I stick my tongue out at him and just as it finds its way back in my mouth, his slides in too, his lips pressed against mine. I moan, feeling myself harden from the contact.

"You taste like pineapples and amaretto but you smell horrible."

"You're a meanie."

"Harry, you need a shower."

"No," I snap.

He grabs my sides, tickling me and scoops me into his arms.

"Gotcha," he smiles and carries me to the bathroom.

I feel woozy when he sets me down so I latch onto the sink. His arms wrap around me and his breath fans across my neck.

"It's okay."

make me  
steady  
keep me   
safe  
and  
n  
e  
v  
e  
r  
let me go  
never   
let me go

"Oh," is all I can say when his arms move away.

unsteady

u  
n   
s  
t  
e  
a  
d  
y

"Hey, I'm not leaving you babe. I'm just going to draw some bath water."

I smile lazily as he peels off my tight jeans and slips my shirt up over my head. My boxers come off and I grin stupidly at him.

"What Harry?"

"Are you going to get naked too?"

He releases an agitated sigh before unzipping his jeans and taking off his shirt.

He's very particular and folds all the clothes, putting them in a neat pile by the tub.

My eyes linger on his body as I hesitantly lower myself into the bathtub. The water is scorching for a moment before my body adjusts and relaxes, the tenseness escaping. My fingers make ripples in the water. It sloshes as Zayn gets in across from me. He stretches out, his legs bracketing my hips.

He sinks lower into the water, letting out a content sigh and I hum as he drops in a tablet. It fizzes, turning the water a milky white and the scent of warm vanilla sugar fills the air.

I let my body drift deeper, my chin touching the warm water. His fingers are twitching, his body jittery, itching for something. Probably nicotine.

My curls turn dark, floating around my shoulders so his fingers busy themselves, brushing the hair away from my neck.

"You're gonna get tangled in your hair babe," he chuckles.

He straightens his posture, and gestures for me to sit up. The water swishes as my back presses to his chest, my head falling onto his shoulder. I smile goofily, my eyelashes grazing his cheek.

"That tickles babe."

That only makes my smile grow wider but my eyes close so he doesn't have to worry about the flutter of my lashes.

"Keep your eyes closed so I don't get soap in them."

My mind is still hazy, only half aware of what is taking place. All I know is my body feels good and my heart is warm, beating softly in my chest.

The splitting headache has resided a bit so I lean forward slightly, letting him lather the shampoo in my hair. It's cold and makes me shiver as it slicks through my hair.

His fingers continue to massage my scalp and I hum a note, leaning into his touch. He tugs at a knot and I suck in a breath. I'm fully hard now, admiring the way his fingers are so tender, his touch so gentle.

Steady. Steady. Steady.

"Lean forward babe," his lips brush across my wet neck.

His words are soft, mixed with the lapping sound of water. It's enough to make me obey, my soapy curls framing my face.

He fills a cup with water and carefully pours it into my hair, before rinsing it out.

My body keeps leaning into his for stability.

Steady.

I turn around, blinking incredibly slow, the drunkenness far from wearing off. My arms loop around his neck as my fingers get lost in his hair. He places his hands on my hips, which are submerged under water.

My body sways a bit closer, my cock pressing against his stomach. I'm so sensitive I whimper and his hand wraps around me.

"I'll take care of it babe," he murmurs.

My breath hitches as he gives a small tug. His hand disturbs the water, setting off a little ripple effect.

Splish splash.

"You okay?"

I nod, my forehead pressing against his tan skin, my breath growing shallow as he pulls at my foreskin then back over the head. His fingers tease my exposed slit and a tiny noise gets caught in the back of my throat.

"Hey," he coaxes. "Let it out."

He could fondle my nipples or squeeze a bit tighter but he sneaks his other hand down, rubbing against my rim.

My body reacts, my hips rocking upward to meet his fist.

"Zayn I can't," I start breathlessly.

"You can babe," he assures.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers embedding marks in his skin. My hips snap as his hand keeps diligently tugging and pumping and then it happens

unsteady  
jagged  
breaths  
and   
quivering   
thighs,  
the water  
colliding  
and spilling  
over   
the side  
of the tub

Unsteady, unsteady, unsteady.

My orgasm rips through the still water, my juices milky to match the bath bomb. His thumb flicks across me one more time, pearls spurting into the water

Then everything stills as I struggle to catch my breath.

"Squeeze babe," he orders, moving me into his lap.

My knees wrap around his hips, my thighs pressing together. He thrusts upward, a small moan slipping past his lips. My thighs are slick and wet but I'm tight as fuck.

It must create quite a bit of friction because he chants "so good babe, so good," like a mantra.

So we make music in the bathtub. Water rippling and praises falling.

I flex and squeeze around him and several seconds later he comes, his face flushed and mouth parted.

For a brief moment I'm completely sober, thoughts of forever filling my mind.

Steady, steady, steady.

My head lolls onto his shoulder and he pulls the plug, allowing the water to drain.

"I bet you're sleepy, yeah?"

I'm spent and don't even have the energy to nod. He pulls me up out of the water and dries me off with a fluffy towel.

"So beautiful," he kisses my forehead, the towel working to dry my damp curls.

Even with all the alcohol in my system, I've never felt so steady.


	27. partially

I wake up to a splitting headache, my head pounding. I slip on some sweatpants and a distressed white t-shirt from his dresser, padding into the bathroom. I stop suddenly, two voices filling my ears. I recognize the thick Bradford accent but the other voice is unfamiliar. Laughter roars and my heart starts beating out of my chest as I walk into the kitchen.

Four eyes meet mine, two amber and two a deep brown.

"Wow Zayn, I didn't know you were friends with Abel Tesfaye," he gapes at me, unable to speak as the guy frowns at me disapprovingly.

"I thought you had changed Zayn. I see you're still taking care of bums off the street."

"Excuse me? I-"

"Does your head heart babe? I got you some medicine."

I stare daggers at the chocolate skinned man, jealous that he made Zayn laugh, that's he's drinking coffee with him on a Sunday morning.

"He's drunk," he scoffs.

Zayn blatantly ignores him, filling a glass of water for me. I swallow the pills and he lets his fingers get tangled in my hair.

"I guess you haven't settled down, had to have a quick fuck last night."

My fist is about to connect with the bloke's jaw when Zayn says "He's my boyfriend."

I feel my heartbeat in my throat and my knees nearly buckle beneath me.

"He's like sixteen."

"I'm an adult, thank you very much," I plaster on a fake smile, which he gladly returns.

"Listen, it's nice that you stopped by to see me but things are a lot different now. I'm not the same person I was when...you know."

"And I am? I'm getting my doctorate in psychology at Oxford. I'm mature now, I realize I made a mistake."

He's pleading but I'm lost. Zayn's face is pale and he shakes his head.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Take you back."

Instinctively, my arm wraps around Zayn's waist, pulling him closer. His body relaxes at my touch and my heart breathes a sigh of relief.

"You can't just show up out of the blue and expect me to take you back. We haven't talked in ages. I'm happy with how my life is going and you have to waltz in and confuse everything."

"Just like that, huh? You're going to throw away what we had?"

Mason.

"You cheated on him," I growl. My fist clenches as I lunge forward. His eyes widen in shock but Zayn tugs me back. "You fucking left him. He needed you."

"He didn't need me. He needed to find himself. You can't love someone if you don't love yourself."

"God that's cheap," I spit back coldly. "I've never turned my back on him."

"Right, you just get shit-faced wasted and expect him to take care of you?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, trying to steal him from me?"

I'm completely sober now, anger coursing through my veins.

"I hope the sex is good Zayn. This kid is-"

"He isn't a kid," he defends sternly. "Harry has more heart than you ever will and he's the most intelligent person I know. You can take your Oxford education and ram it up your arse."

I nearly choke, trying to suppress my laughter.

"Oh that's low, even for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It isn't my fault you were addicted to drugs. I tried to help you. I fucking loved you Zayn Malik. Part of me always will."

"That's the problem," his voice cracks. "You only ever loved me partially."

Silence hangs heavily in the air before he gets up from his chair. "Thanks for the coffee."

He opens his mouth to say something else but his words falter, so he pivots quickly on his heel and rushes through the front door.

"You let in your ex while I was asleep?"

"Harry, hear me out. He was in town and I thought we could catch up and clear the air."

"Right," I snort.

"M'sorry he offended you like that. You know I-"

"You said I was your boyfriend," I blurt.

His face softens and he cups his hands around my cheeks, his golden eyes aglow. "Do you want to be?"

"Yes," I reply breathlessly.

And he kisses me with a renewed passion, his lips chasing mine, his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth.

"I thought your joke about The Weeknd was funny," he chuckles.

"He isn't what I was expecting."

"He's irrelevant now. You're my everything."

I smile at the sound of that, my cheeks warming.

"You know I am sorry about last night, thanks for putting up with me."

He presses his nose to mine and I giggle.

"I wouldn't want anything else."  
poem

"You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk."

"Baudelaire," he sighs. "You and your love of poetry. 

"Give me a Zayn original," I beam.

"don't  
stand  
at my  
grave  
and   
say  
you  
love   
me  
that's  
all i  
would  
have   
needed  
to stay"

My heart aches as my arms wrap around his neck. "I do love you and not just partially Zayn. With every fiber of my being, with my entire heart, with everything I have. Whatever you want me to do, I will. I'll soften every edge, I'll rearrange the stars, I'll defend your every breath."

A tear slips from his face and my heart shatters.

"Z-zayn, was it something I said?"

He nods and my thumb swipes over his cheekbone, collecting the tear.

"I will love you with every heart beat I have Zayn."

"My heart was bursting with happiness and it didn't know how to contain itself. I told it to stay inside my chest so my eyes poured out what my heart couldn't. Without with I'm a poet without words, a whisper lost in the void, a secret nobody keeps. I'm...partial."

"Me too," my heart thuds. "You complete me. I've never felt something like this before, so deeply I don't know what my life would be like without you in it. All I know is I never want to turn back."

his  
heart  
was   
bleeding  
out,   
left   
on   
the shelf,  
it speeds  
up,  
beating  
steadily,  
as my  
lips  
press  
to his  
lips  
and  
our   
two   
hearts  
connect;  
i'll never  
let him  
be  
incomplete,  
never  
leave   
him  
in love  
partially

His lips tug upward, his kiss a cursive line, his touch a beautiful phrase.

"Complete, complete, complete," I murmur against his lips.

"I am partially turned on."

"Me too Zayn. Me too."


	28. کبير

"He was really attractive," my cheeks flush.

"Babe, are you jealous?"

Maybe.

"No, of course not."

He smirks, his arms wrapping around me. I can't breathe. He always steals my breath. My heart is working overtime, trying to keep up with his touch, as his fingers skim over the marks on my neck.

"Mine," he whispers.

It's enough to send chills down my spine.

I think I know what he saw in Mason. Passion and drive. The fire in his eyes.

It was once in Zayn's eyes. He felt something for Mason, returned that fervor. He has a kind soul and an earnest heart.

Mason's heart is made of stone. Stones are cold and stones are not easily moved.

I feel sorry for stones. They're always being weathered and displaced.

Zayn tried to be a soft wave, crashing upon him but his force was too much, so the stone was washed away.

He says he's different now. What does that make him?

Is he no longer a stone? Has he kindled a fire in his heart?

Maybe Zayn wasn't a wave at all. Maybe he waded through rough waters. Maybe he crossed the entire ocean only to meet someone who didn't love him back. Maybe Mason was the promise of land, golden sands on a sought after shore.

He endured turbulent storms and fearsome currents.

And all that time he was afraid to swim.

If he ever gets lost out at sea again I'll be his life raft. We can drift endlessly together, trying to reach that line, where the orange horizon meets the crystal blue water.

"Still I look in the mirror and wonder what you see in me."

"If a mirror ever makes you sad, you should know that it does not know you."

"Kabir," I exhale.

"You know he mixed elements of Islam and Hinduism. He was an Indian mystic poet and saint. I'm not sure but I also think he applied Sikh philosophy. His name means The Great in Arabic. It works perfectly because his mind was great but his heart was greater."

I smile, listening intently to his lesson. I'm always learning, always craving more of his words.

His words are my oxygen but I think he knows.

I figure it's ironic, that he takes my breath away, because he has never deprived me of oxygen.

He keeps the blood pumping in my veins.

A red river.

"The river that flows in you also flows in me."

His eyes glimmer, impressed by my knowledge of the revered poet.

There is dew  
on these poems in the morning,  
and at night a cool breeze may rise from them.

In the winter they are blankets, in the summer a place to swim.

I like talking to you like this. Have you moved  
a step closer?

Soon we may be  
kissing.

It's like he reads my thoughts, his body leaning into mine, our lips connecting.

oceans   
and   
mirrors   
and   
morning dew

exchanged  
words,  
a web  
of emotions  
and i'm all  
tangled up

i won't   
lose him  
i won't  
lose  
the moon  
counting  
the stars

he had   
it all  
but he  
wasn't   
able  
to see past  
empty  
pill bottles  
and   
broken  
sobs

my eyes  
see  
so   
much  
M O R E

"I'm sorry Zayn."

His eyes search mine desperately.

"For what love?"

"I'm sorry he didn't see it."

I don't have to clarify.

There's no need to elaborate.

He gets it.

It strikes a chord with him, a faint smile playing on his face.

If I told him everything Mason missed out on, I'd still be listing off the words on my death bed.

"I know I wasn't fair to him but he threw everything back in your face."

"It's okay, really."

"You loved him didn't you?"

"I still care deeply about him. I keep hoping he'll forgive and forget. When he called me up saying he'd stop by, I thought he would make amends. Maybe he doesn't realize the damage he caused. I wasn't in the right mind but when he left me I spiraled out of control. I wanted him to stay but he just didn't get it. Do you ever feel that Harry?"

"Feel what?"

"Useless; like a waste of space."

There goes my heart again, fleeting.

"All the time but now I'm starting to think I was made for something."

"What's that babe?"

"Loving you."

His lips brush over my exposed collarbone, his breath ghosting my skin.

"That might be the most poetic thing I've ever heard."

soft  
supple  
silky,  
skimming  
my   
skin

lips  
that have  
the power  
to shatter  
hearts  
and make   
promises,  
lips that  
speak   
beautiful  
words  
and spit  
out a string  
of curses,  
lips that  
meaningfully  
connect  
syllables,  
lips that  
can do  
all of  
these things  
yet choose  
to make  
marks  
on me

His lips mold and conform to me, fitting in all of the places where I'm unusual.

Lips like honey and sweet sugar, the dew dripping from blossoming flowers.

And I'm a feather, weightless and drifting up, up, up...into the cotton candy clouds.

I lose track of everything but he's scooping me up into his arms and I am dissolving, melting into a pile of pillows.

It isn't until a cool breeze hits my stomach that I realize my shirt is gone. Kisses graze my chin, my nose, everywhere.

I moan as his lips hit my jawline, his tongue flicking over love bites. His hands skate up and down my legs and I feel stripped.

When did he undress me?

My thighs are bare. His fingers slide up, past the flat plane of my stomach and catch at my back.

He slants in; inclines and kisses just above my hip bone.

You were made for this.

Trailing up and down my torso.

There's no other way.

My fingers tousle his hair before locking into place.

my arms slip

down  
down  
d  
o  
w  
n

his neck

All I see is tan skin. Bareness, devised perfectly.

What did kissing Mason taste like? Pungent? Tart? Like bitter lies?

I'll pretend but I know his kisses were sweet. I know they made love. I know Mason's hands memorized every part of Zayn's body and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

And a pang of hurt.

His fingers brush through my curls, his mouth stilling.

"Are you okay love?"

"Was he...did he do it better?"

"No."

He doesn't go into detail or provide an explanation but it's all I needed to hear before his dips back down, his tongue slipping into my mouth.


	29. dusty corners of the heart

It isn't like I never saw it coming.

I was just hoping it would never happen. Louis says I'm overreacting and Liam says I shouldn't skip class over this. Of course they would say that. Who cares about some fucking notes over old dead poets?

Most of the poems we discuss are wedged in bookshelves between books people never pick up. Letters than form words that form sentences that spill from the soul.

Hearts bleeding out through the form of ink but nobody pays them any mind.

I'm one of those poems. Trapped in a book collecting dust on a shelf. Someone marked me once, there are pen marks scribbled all over me, misinterpreting my theme. Searching for symbols, skimming over the deepest parts of me.

I thought the reader understood me.

I've never been so wrong.

Fourteen missed calls and three voicemails. I torture myself by listening to the first one.

Harreh, I know I hurt you. Please just call me back. I love you so fucking much you don't understand. We're talking about Rumi in class. I can't get my mind off you-

It's too much. My body trembles as I delete the messages.

My lip is quivering, my teeth sinking in to numb the pain.

You will not cry over this.

I scream. Scream out at the top of my lungs. Scream until I'm heaving for breath because my air is gone.

He was my air.

My mind is hazy as my feet wander to the bathroom. It's glinting on the edge of the counter. So tempting.

I glance at the mirror, my cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot. I look like half the person I used to be, my curls a wild tangled mess trying to strangle me.

My ears are ringing, my heart pumping so fast I think I'm going to pass out. I grip tightly onto the corner of the sink, my knuckles turning white.

And then I reach for it, the sharp blade slicing into my pale skin. It feels good.

My gaze lands on the crimson liquid collecting in the sink, little droplets slowly slipping from my wrists.

He has his medication and I have mine. Tears blur my vision and my hand shakily drops the blade. It hits the cold tile with a clink and my mind spins. His reflection is staring back at me in the mirror. Soft amber eyes and tan skin. Long entangled lashes and soft pink lips.

Lips that murmured sweet nothings, lips that touched flawed parts of me.

He cherished every inch. Every freckle, every scar, every dip and curve. His lips explored me. Unknown regions.

We reached uncharted territory. We flew to space. We made music and poetry and love.

We did all of the beautiful things and now there is nothing left.

I'm left reeling, my heart aching to be touched like that again.

How could he do this when he knows how much it hurts? He knows what it's like to be abandoned. To be used up and discarded.

Dust collecting in the corners of my heart.

He said mirrors don't really know you. They're a false reality. They don't capture inner beauty.

Mirrors can be deceptive. They show that everything is fine. Happy smiles and rosy cheeks but you're dying.

You're fucking miserable.

Or they can show you what could have been, arms wrapped around your waist, disheveled black hair in the frame. Bright laughter and kisses to my cheek.

I want to shatter the mirror.

So I do, my fist colliding with it. Shards of glass scatter and blood seeps from my hand.

It felt good. The rush that shot through me, I power I wielded.

But then the pain is too much. It's all encompassing.

It consumes me and my mind goes blank, my legs giving way beneath me.

...

"Harry, Harry, Harry, wake up. Harry baby please. Stay with me-"

Harreh.

I think my body is floating. I've been set free. Everything is bright and stark white. The darkness has faded into light.

I can't feel anything.

But his voice is ringing through my head.

"I was made for loving you. You Harry. Only you.

only   
you  
you  
you

"You can do it. Open your eyes love. Emerald eyes. Sharp blades of grass," his voice cracks. "The sun, the moon and all my stars. Harry please. Nothing has ever left me this torn. My heart is weeping as much as yours."

Then it hits me.

This is real.

My heart is still beating but I'm not alive.

I died when I saw him kissing Mason.

I died over and over and over again.

And I never want to wake up.

He keeps pleading with me, telling me I can. Wanting my eyes to open.

But my heart is so tired.

"Help him! Please, please, please," he gasps for air.

he has a pulse

arrhythmia

he needs an AED

losing too much blood

"Don't let me lose him. He's all I have. Don't let me-"

I feel a shockwave to the heart but it isn't enough.

"I love you Harry. I made a promise, remember? I didn't kiss him Harry. He leaned in, I...you believe me. I know you do. I've never loved something so fully, so much I can't breathe. You can't breathe either but I'm here now. I'll give you all the air in my lungs. I already gave you my heart."

Those words are enough, my eyes fluttering open.

"Oh god," he chokes on a sob, his arms enveloping me. "Oh god, oh god, oh god. Harry. My Harry," he coaxes.

His fingers stroke my scalp.

My heart is swelling, bursting at the seams. Beating with life again.

His.

"My fist connected with his jaw," he chuckles. "I just thought you should know. I hope it leaves a nasty bruise."

"I'm sorry I scared you," I whisper. "I love you."

He kisses me softly, his fingers skimming over the bandage around my hand. I blink slowly, not even realizing I'm already fixed.

The paramedics woke me up.

But he brought me back to life.


	30. blushing knees on wooden floors

*mature content

"Let's go somewhere this summer."

His arms wrap around me, his face nuzzling into the crook of my neck.

"Where Zayn?"

"Anywhere with you."

His words tickle my skin and my heart flips in my chest.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

I can't take it. He's so precious.

"I'm sorry I hurt myself."

"I'm sorry I hurt you. It's all my fault. I swear he just came onto me."

"I just worry." He runs circles into the small of my back, sighing.

"About what babe?"

"That you still have feelings for him."

It's quiet for a moment.

Silence can be deafening.

His hands still and my heart slows down.

"I'll never love anyone the way I love you. I'm not going to lie to you. I still feel something for him but it's different. It isn't what we have."

"What do we have?"

His tongue runs along his bottom lip. He's deep in thought, his eyes gazing off into the distance.

"A connection that I can't put into words."

"You're an English teacher," I joke.

"You can't teach people how to love. You just do it. And you certainly can't explain it. Sure, you can write a poem or a sappy song but it doesn't capture the way your heart feels."

I close my eyes, his voice soothing my nerves.

the   
scars  
i left   
are   
loud  
and  
clear  
maybe  
i'll wake  
up  
tomorrow  
and  
regret  
the pain

"Did you hear me love?"

I shake my head and his fingers brush through my curls.

And he reads me like a book.

"Never be afraid to show me your scars."

My heart shivers.

the roses  
are wilted  
the violets  
are dead  
my heart  
is beating  
beating  
but my  
wrists  
are stained  
red

the moon  
shattered  
and the   
stars  
tumbled  
into the sea  
the world  
fell apart  
right around  
me

"What are you thinking about babe?"

"Nothing," I mumble.

"You're beautiful Harry," he whispers. "I love every part of you. Please don't hide from me."

"I won't Zayn."

He hums, his lips vibrating against my skin. His tongue flicks over the fading bite marks on my neck.

"My mum doesn't know. She can't find out. She would be so disappointed. When I cut the first time she lost it. Besides, how do I explain that my teacher saved me? How did you save me?"

"Liam told me to check on you so I called Ed to take over. I said it was an emergency. I freaked until it dawned on me that you gave me your spare key. I've never been so terrified. You were limp and pale and...there was blood everywhere. It felt like half of me was empty and I couldn't breathe. I started hyperventilating. My mind was so hazy and my fingers were trembling so much I'm shocked I was able to dial for help."

"I'm glad I got stuck in your class," I grin. "I wanted to drop it but Liam convinced me not to. I didn't know what to expect but I was picturing an old woman with a pinched face and glasses perched on her nose. A gray bun and a red pen to mark essays. For the longest time I pretended poetry was lame but it isn't."

"You were such a shit."

"I know," I chuckle. "But thank you for keeping me after class and annoying the hell out of me."

know your limits

you're drinking your life away

i won't deduct points just turn in the assignment

please come to class

your words are beautiful

are you okay?

why did you sleep in class?

you sell yourself short

I'm lost in my thoughts but he breaks the silence.

"Your hair is so long."

"Should I cut it?"

"No!" He tugs gently at it, a smirk on his face. "Do you like that?"

I nod, blushing furiously and he chuckles.

"How about Los Angeles?"

"You can't even swim babe." He shrugs and I kiss his cheek. "I'll teach you how."

"Don't let me drown," he says jokingly.

"I'm not Mason."

His eyes darken, his neck flinching. "I don't want to talk about him."

"You're hot when you're mad."

"Is that so?"

"Zayn," I frown. "Do you miss bottoming?"

"No babe, I like making you feel good."

"What about you?"

"Stop pouting Harry, you do make me feel good."

"C-can I try something?"

"Of course," he exhales.

My tongue flicks over my lip, my eyes burning into his. "Jeans off."

His eyes darken and flicker with lust as he climbs off the bed and undoes his zipper. I tug down his boxers, eager to rapture him. Yearning to see his face, twisted in ecstasy, small moans of pleasure falling from his lips.

"Touch yourself," I rasp out.

He stares at me perplexed so I breathe the words on his neck.

"I said touch yourself."

The sight is so obscene I stifle back a moan. His hand wraps around his member, thumbing the head, his eyes closed and pastel pink mouth parted.

His hand falls slack at his side, his eyes fluttering open.

"Harry I can't-"

I breathe warm air over his member, my lips skimming across his head. He sucks in a breath so I pause, just to tease him before brushing his pre-cum with the pad of my thumb and dropping to my knees.

My thumb lifts to my mouth, tasting his saltiness.

"Please."

I slowly lick a stripe up the bottom of his cock before circling his head with my tongue.

He pleads again with his eyes so I take him into my mouth, hallowing my cheeks. He gasps and thrusts forward.

"God, you're so beautiful. So beautiful," he pants.

weat heat  
and stifled  
moans  
my hips  
pushing back  
sucking,  
my head  
dipping down

I bob my head quickly, my tongue swirling; etching patterns on his underside. My teeth graze his skin gently and his legs quiver.

My nose brushes his pubic hair before I pull back up, agonizingly slow.

"Harry," he moans. "M'gonna come," he warns. I just look up at him, batting my lashes.

his body  
trembling  
for me,  
i moan  
around him  
sending small  
vibrations  
his eyes   
squeeze shut,  
his hands   
pulling at  
my chocolate  
brown curls

And he spurts his hot load down my throat. His legs continue to shake as I milk every last drop.

"Shit," is all he can muster as he stumbles onto the bed.

I smile softly and kiss his cheek.

"I love you."

"Do you know why I write Harry?"

"No," I whisper.

"Because you exist."

My heart stops and starts again.

"You're a book that I was dying to read, now I'm hanging on every word."

"Am I?"

He straddles my hips, his honey colored eyes finding mine.

"So read me," he murmurs into my neck.

he speaks  
the language  
of the universe,  
the stars  
sighing  
collectively

"I love,  
how you like  
to tease

Slowly crawling,  
while your legs  
do the talking,  
with knees   
that blush,  
on wooden floors.

Dropping a pencil  
and picking it up."

"I'm not familiar with that one."

"Michael Faudet. His stuff is unbelievably erotic."

"Do you read his poems in class?"

"Of course not."

"I have fantasies about you all the time. You bending me over the desk, whispering dirty things in my ear."

"In my class?"

I nod, laughing mischievously.

"You'll give yourself a hard-on."

"I guess I'm a naughty boy. You should teach me a lesson."

His eyes glisten and his hands slide down my waist.

"I hope you're a fast learner."


	31. twenty six letters

"Harry, when will your mum be back?"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." I glance at my alarm clock and spring up from my bed frantically. "I look like a mess. Oh god, the bandage. I need to shower. I can't believe-"

"Breathe babe." He tugs me back down. I sit up on the edge of the bed, my eyes glued to the wall.

"Ahhh fuck. My hand hurts. How am I going to write? Everyone is going to ask what happened. It's so embarrassing, what am I supposed to say?"

"You should have seen the other guy."

I laugh, my head falling onto his shoulder.

"Don't go to school tomorrow love."

He wraps his arms around me, his lips brushing across my neck.

"My teacher is telling me to skip school," I gasp dramatically, clutching my chest. "You should be fired."

"I'm fucking you too. I don't see you complaining about that."

"How can you say such eloquent things in class and then spit out such filthy comments outside of school?"

He chuckles, his knuckles grazing along my jaw.

"You can stay at my place. I'll make sure Liam picks up all your assignments."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"I dunno but I'm sure this beats extra credit, yeah?"

I want to knock the smirk off his face.

"Get out of my house," I joke.

"You don't even pay the bills. Wait until you have to."

"I better become a male prostitute."

"Oi," he smacks my cheek. "Don't talk like that. You're going to uni."

"I don't really want to. I'm not good at anything."

"Are you joking Harry? You're a straight A student. You're extremely talented, you just sell yourself short."

I sigh and stare blankly at the ceiling.

"Nothing interests me."

"What about me?"

I smile and roll over to kiss his cheek.

"I should have warned you about touching my jawline."

I furrow my brows and he gestures to my bandage.

"Sliced you up pretty bad."

"God you're so self-absorbed."

"I should probably go. Just come to my place anytime tomorrow. You have my spare key, right?"

I nod and he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Drink lots of water and take your pain medicine. Get some rest, okay?"

"Zayn," I groan. "I'm not a baby."

"You're my baby."

It's about the most cliché thing I've ever heard but my heart still does a backflip.

...

I toss on a long sleeved hoodie and listen for the door.

"Harry!"

I rush into the kitchen to help her put some groceries away and kiss her cheek.

"Hey mum. Do you need help with dinner?"

"I'm okay, what's gotten into you?"

"What can I say? You raised a gentleman," I give a dimpled grin and she laughs lightly.

"Can you fold the laundry for me?"

I nod and busy myself folding towels and putting clothes in the wash.

"Is school going okay? Did you bring up your English grade?"

"Yeah, everything is good."

"If you ever want to invite your friends over you can. I haven't seen Niall in awhile. When you boys were young he'd clear raid our cabinets and eat a whole bag of chips."

Sounds like Niall. I just smile as she washes a head of lettuce and hums a tune.

"You look really pale.

"Just tired."

She frowns and shoots me a knowing look. "You work too hard. Don't overexert yourself. Have a little fun while you still can. Your life flashes by and before you know it you're going gray and you can't remember where you put anything."

"You aren't old mum."

"Just enjoy every moment. Be grateful for everything you have and make sure your friends know how much you care about them."

"I try my best."

"Am I going to see that boyfriend of yours anytime soon?"

I suck in a breath.

"Harry," she says sternly. "Would I approve of him?"

"Undoubtedly. He has tattoos and he smokes but he's trying to quit. I promise he's amazing. He's kind-hearted and intelligent and hilarious. He's just...sincere."

"Is he trustworthy?"

Images of him kissing Mason flick in my mind before I decisively say "of course."

"Is he cute?"

I laugh, my cheeks growing warm.

"Very. I need a cold shower. I'll be out before dinner."

"Okay honey."

I shake out my damp curls and saunter into the kitchen.

"I am feeling a bit under the weather. Can I stay home tomorrow?"

She feels my forehead and sighs. "Yes Harry. Do you need me to take off work?"

"No, don't worry about it."

...

"Hi babe."

"Your sheets smell so good."

I snuggle deeper into the covers, inhaling traces of him on the white sheets.

"I just washed them," he laughs. "If your hungry I can grab you some food and you're welcome anything in the kitchen. I don't know what all that entails."

clinging  
to every  
cell in   
my brain  
and filling  
all the space  
in my heart  
twenty six   
letters  
but i can't  
find the   
right combination  
to capture  
whatever   
i am feeling  
for you

"It makes me feel safe."

"What love?"

"Your bed. It's so hard to breathe without you though."

My heart picks up speed as he says "breathe me in because I breathe for you."

"What are you talking about today?"

"Poetry," he replies dryly.

"Groundbreaking."

He chuckles through the line and I smile to myself.

"Did you want food babe?"

"I'm okay. Thanks though."

"Make sure you eat something, don't take your medicine on an empty stomach. I need to help you with the antiseptic when I get home. Okay?"

"Alright."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I lean back against the pillows, letting myself slowly drift off.

Pounding on the door jolts me awake. Zayn wouldn't forget his keys. What in the hell? I hesitantly open the door and regret it immediately.

"Hey Henry."

"Harry," I correct.

"Yeah whatever, I wanted to talk to Zayn."

"He's at work," I huff. "Come back never." I start to close the door but he stops it and plasters on a smile.

"May I come in?"

"No," I reply coldly.

"Do you have a job or are you supposed to be in school?"

"That's none of your business. Now do me a favor and get the fuck out of my face."

"You're just using Zayn."

My blood boils as I stare daggers at him.

"Excuse me? You fucked him and then cheated on him. Go before I call the police."

"So how old are you? Sixteen?"

I roll my eyes as he pushes past me, making himself comfortable on the couch.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Got in a fight."

"Figures," he scoffs. "We had plans you know."

"What?"

"Zayn and I. We were going to live in London and travel the world. I swear to you I still love him. Listen Harry, I know I didn't get it right but I don't deserve this. He won't even let me apologize."

"Why'd you kiss him?"

"I just missed the taste of his lips. I miss everything about him. Can you imagine someone ripping him away from you? Do you know that pain?"

"I'm sorry Mason. I truly am but things weren't meant to be."

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back tears.

"How do you know?"

"You don't seem all that bad. I wanted to hate you but I know why Zayn loved you. You're headstrong and determined and obviously very sensitive. I don't hate you. I just can't."

He places his hand on my knee and I flinch.

"Just treat him right. Don't repeat my mistakes. I'm sorry for being a jerk, I'm sorry for trying to rip your relationship apart. I've seen the way he looks at you. It's something I never could do. I tried so fucking hard."

My hand rubs him back soothingly as I assure him everything will be okay.

"Things happen for a reason."

"Hey Henry," he cracks a smile. "I like your hair."

"Thanks Michael."

"Fuck," he exhales.

"You alright?"

"You're so damn likeable."

I smile and he gets up, a tiny smile on his face.

"I guess I needed this. I needed closure. If you ever want to grab a beer it's on me."

"I'm only sixteen," I mock.

"Sorry," he frowns.

"Don't worry about it. Promise me something though."

"Uh okay."

"Don't settle. Find someone that will respect you and care for you no matter what."

"You really are an incredible person."

...

"Zayn," I fling my arms around him, peppering his face with kisses.

"You didn't even miss me," he says sarcastically. "Mason called me."

"Oh, what did he say?"

"Apparently he came over to pay me a visit. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah," I exhale.

"He really likes you. I accepted his apology."

"He isn't so bad."

"I'm sure he doesn't know he's the reason why you're hurt. He'd be extremely upset."

"I cut myself, not him."

"You need to tend to the wound or it'll get infected. C'mere baby."

He grabs my hand and leads me into the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the tub and he carefully unravels the bandage.

"This is going to hurt babe. I'm sorry."

I take a deep breath but he doesn't use the antiseptic.

"Your cuts are too deep. I'm just going to use a mild saline solution."

He dilutes some and outs it on a clean piece of gauze, dabbing at my skin.

I wince, a hiss escaping through my gritted teeth.

"It's okay. You're okay."

My fingernails dig into his shoulder and in a few seconds the burning pain resides.

"So strong," he kisses my hairline.

I smile as he winds a new bandage around my hand.

"I um...it's hard for me to wash my hair."

"I'll clean you up babe."

I giggle as he scoops me into his arms and carries me to the shower. He lifts my shirt up over my head and tugs off my sweatpants.

"I hope you like bubbles."

His fingers massage my scalp, working up a lather.

I hum contently as the warm water cascades down my back.

He soaps up a washcloth and scrubs my diligently, paying special attention to my body.

My back presses against the cold tile as his warm lips find mine, the washcloth traveling to my thighs. A moan gets caught in the back of my throat as his fingers get tangled in my hair.

"Are you still sore babe?"

My cheeks flush as I shake my head.

"I missed you today," he breathes huskily.

I like this side of Zayn. Dominant and assertive. Hungry for me.

He sucks a love bite into my neck and grazes his teeth along my pale collarbone. My hips grind into his, relishing the friction we both crave.

"My bandage," I moan. "Going to be so wet."

"So are you," his lips search for mine again.

He bites my bottom lip before sliding his tongue into my mouth.

My body is on fire but the cold water pelts down. I attach my mouth to his neck as his hand wraps around my member, pumping steadily. I bite gently into his neck. He gives a little squeeze a pulls, my small pants and the soothing sound of water filling the room. It doesn't take much for me to spill but my mess washes down the drain.

"Were you a good boy today?"

"Y-yes," I stammer.

He licks a teasing strip down my member, taking me in and twirling his tongue along my tip. My hips buck forward as he hums, sending vibrations through my body.

So he makes me cum again, the milky substance spurting into his tongue.

Twenty six letters.

But I can't think of a single word.


	32. yorkshire pudding

"Louis stop," Liam scolds.

Niall chuckles as he munches on his sandwich.

"Get married already," he grins.

"Shut up leprechaun," Lou sasses back. Niall frowns but Liam shrugs sympathetically so he takes another bite of his sandwich.

"I don't know guys, college isn't really my thing."

"How do you know that Haz? What are you going to do? Work at McDonald's?"

I poke my tongue out at him but realize he has a valid argument. I'd be worthless without a uni degree.

"I mean I guess Zayn can be your sugar daddy."

Liam swats at his arm, a small smile splaying across his face. His arm loops around his neck as if to say mine and Louis beams proudly.

"We haven't even been on a proper date."

"Yeah but you've properly fucked," Louis smirks. "Doesn't that beat a date?"

"Not really," I sulk. "We haven't been mates forever like you and Liam. We're still in that stage where we don't really know everything there is to know about each other."

Niall swallows and turns to me, his crystal blue eyes gleaming.

"Har, you should move in with him. You practically live there anyway. That way you can watch Netflix and cuddle on the couch or cook each other fancy meals."

"Always thinking about food," Liam laughs.

"Ni, how am I supposed to tell my mum that I want to live with my teacher? She keeps pressing me to introduce him."

"Then just tell her the truth Harry. I'm really saddened that you hurt yourself. We've been friends forever and I didn't even know you were in trouble. I just had no idea you did that to yourself. When you're with Zayn I know you're okay, I know he'll take care of you. He's just that type of guy."

Liam has always been the voice of reason in our friend group.

"Anne would be pleased to hear that you have someone like that in your life, that you're in love with a man that will stop at nothing to ensure your happiness."

He's a pleaser. Surely he can win her over with his words and a home cooked meal.

"You're right," I groan. "I should tell her."

...

"Harry baby, what happened to your hand?"

"It was an accident. Don't worry about it mum."

I kiss her cheek, a wide smile on my face and she falls for it. I feel guilty for all the lies but at least I can get one thing off my chest.

"How was work?"

"It was alright. How was school?"

"What should I do when I graduate?"

She places her hands firmly on her hips, her gaze landing on me.

"Whatever fits you best. I would like you to go to uni but if you want to go straight into the workforce that's alright too. Is something bothering you?"

"My boyfriend," I blurt.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No," I blush, my gaze falling to the floor. "I think I'm ready for you to meet him. I haven't asked him yet but I'm sure he'd be okay with it."

"Really? That's wonderful!" She claps her hands together excitedly and kisses my forehead.

"He's uh," I clear my itchy throat "he's older than me."

"Not old enough to be your father, is he?"

I shake my head, trying to contain my laughter.

...

"You want me to meet your mum?"

"She won't be weirded out by it, I promise."

"Okay," he exhales. "Only because she gave birth to such a beautiful creature."

"Zayyynnn," I hide my face in my hands and he chuckles, moving them away to kiss me.

"It's true."

"She doesn't know I snuck out after dinner. I've been hiding so much from her."

He knits his brows together in concern and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Maybe you'll feel better if she meets me. I can invite her to my place and cook something. What does she like? I make a mean Yorkshire pudding."

"We bake together a lot, I don't know how impressed she would be."

"Oh, let's just bake together then. That would be fun."

I let my heavy eyelids close, the sound of his steady heartbeat my favorite lullaby.

"My heart beats for you," I whisper. "Listen."

"They're in sync babe."

"I'm spent," I yawn.

"I'll wake you up love. Go to sleep."

He does wake me up to the smell of cinnamon raisin toast. Coffee is brewing and his hair is a fluffy mess atop his head. It's a beautiful sight, early morning light trickling through the windows.

"G'morning sunshine."

I smile sheepishly, my arms wrapping around him from behind. My head falls to his shoulder and I press kisses to his neck.

"I don't deserve you."

"Hush. Set the table for me."

I happily oblige and he grins as he sits down across from me.

"It's nice having you here. I get really lonely."

"You should get a dog."

"Yeah I guess I should. How is your poem collection coming along?"

"Good," I smile and play with my napkin. "I really want to be an author Zayn. Is that too unattainable?"

"Of course not babe. You'll have to work for it though. It takes so many drafts to get published. I'm talking several years."

I sigh dejected but he kisses the corner of my mouth.

"I believe in you babe."

"Are you ready to meet my mum tonight? I don't want to pressure you."

"It's fine babe. Is seven o'clock too late?"

"Its perfect," I grin.

...

"Please call me Anne."

She pulls Zayn in for a hug, a wide smile on her face.

"Harry didn't tell me how pretty you are."

I shrug and he blushes.

"If your mother wants to meet me sometime she can. We can have tea and lament about growing old."

I shoot her a frantic look, my eyes wide and she regrets saying anything.

"I'm sorry love, is she deceased?"

"No," he clears his throat. "She has breast cancer."

"I'm so sorry to hear that sweetie."

"He went on a cleaning spree before you came, dusted every corner and cabinet," I brag.

"Babe," he pleads. "It was nothing really."

"It is very tidy, very organized," she compliments. "What do you do for a living Zayn?"

"Uhh, I'm a teacher."

"Oh how lovely. Harry was struggling quite a bit in his literature class at the beginning of the year. He has a perfect grade point average now. So smart," he boasts.

Kill me.

Zayn's eyes laugh as they flick over me so I just smile nervously. She senses something going on between us, quick to mention it.

"Did I say something?"

I glance over at Zayn for the go ahead and he nods his head affirmatively.

"Zayn is my lit teacher."

"Oh," she says surprised. "You never informed me about that Harry."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I just wish you would have trusted me. I'm not angry, just disappointed-"

"You're meeting me now," Zayn chimes in. "Harry wanted to tell you a long time ago but I wasnt ready. I wanted to wait until we were serious."

He covered for me.

She sighs and Zayn slips his hand into mine.

"He's the one mum."

"You're so young Harry. You haven't been in many serious relationships. I just don't know. You're moving so fast."

"With all due respect Anne, I am experienced with love and heartbreak. Never have I felt something like this. I'm in love with your son and I can't look back. "

My heart flutters and my head falls onto his shoulder.

She smiles warmly, sending me a look that says you were right about him.

"Let's bake," Zayn suggests cheerily.

We do and his Yorkshire pudding is undoubtedly better. So much so my mum asks for the recipe.


	33. rings and flings

"Harry, can I talk you?"

"Sure."

Zayn smiles sympathetically as I follow my mum into the living room.

"Are you using protection?"

I laugh at the absurdity.

"Seriously? What makes you think we're having sex?"

Her mouth forms into a tight line.

"You're a hormonal teenager."

"Please, I'm almost nineteen. I'm a legal adult."

"How old is he Harry? Be honest."

I inhale and prepare myself for a lecture.

"Twenty three."

Her brows raise as she struggles to find words.

"You have my approval."

"Really?"

I hug her excitedly, my heart racing.

"Can I spend the night?"

"I don't know Harry, I-"

"I'll have you know I'm well equipped with condoms."

She jumps back startled and he laughs lightly.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I just want you to know that I take good care of Harry."

She looks away for a split second and Zayn seizes the moment by winking at me.

"Alright, you can stay the night. Make sure he does all his homework."

"Wait," he wraps his arms around her and whispers something in her ear. She looks at me, a faint smile on her face and I can't help but wonder what he said to her.

"I'm the best," he grins.

"Is she right Zayn? Are we moving too fast?"

He presses a kiss to my forehead and takes my hand in his, pulling me into his room.

"It isn't like we're getting married. We're just cherishing our time together before you go off to uni."

I tug off my boots and scoot beside him on the bed, our fingers entwining.

"That's not going to happen. I'm sorry Zayn, I just can't do four more years of school."

He traces the curve of my upper lip with his finger.

"Whatever you think is best babe."

i wonder  
which is  
deadlier,  
a gun  
or my own  
thoughts   
the chance   
to do harm,  
and for  
my brain  
to pull  
the trigger

"I'll support you no matter what. You know that right?"

I nod silently, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"I just want to make you proud."

"Harry it's your future. I just-"

"Harry," my mum peeks around the door. She looks relieved that we're just talking, our fingers laced together. "I'm going home. Zayn, thank you for the hospitality and the recipe."

"Of course. Thank you for giving me Harry."

My heart melts into liquid.

We wait until the front door closes before our conversation resumes, our words filling the air.

My eyes land on his bookcase, skimming over Marvel comic books and literary classics.

"What's your favorite?"

He follows my gaze, his tongue wetting his lips.

"I don't know if I can pick one. I'm much fonder of poetry anyway."

I nuzzle up against him and his fingers card through my hair.

"Maybe we should go to Italy this summer."

"Too fancy. I'm fine with Los Angeles."

"I owe you about thirty dates."

I laugh, my lips skimming over his neck, my words getting lost against his skin.

"You don't owe me anything."

"I want to make up for lost time."

"Zayn, this is all I need. Moments like these."

"Do you want kids?"

"It isn't like we're getting married," I mock.

"What if I'm certain I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you?"

He kisses me so softly I nearly forget how to breathe.

My fingers tangle in his hair.

And I breathe him in.

"I got you something babe."

"I don't need any gifts Zayn."

He sits up and rummages through his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box.

"A ring?"

He opens it up, pulling out a plain silver ring with his name engraved.

"A promise of my love, so I'll always be with you."

My eyes are wet with tears as he slips it on my finger. He tugs the chain out from under his shirt, revealing a matching ring, with my name engraved.

"Do you think it's stupid?"

"Not at all. This isn't just some fling. I'm madly in love with you. I want to stay this way forever."

"In love?"

I nod, a single tear slipping down my cheek. It vanishes under his lips.

"Your birthday is coming up, do you want anything?"

"Just you," I smile.

"I'm serious Harry."

"So am I," I giggle.

"Harryyyy," he sings. "Tell me or I'll tickle you."

"I'm trembling in fear."

His fingers attack my sides and a fit of laughter ensues.

"A Polaroid."

"Okay you little long-haired hipster. A camera it is."

"I'm snapping so many blackmail photos of you."

"The hell you are," he chuckles.

"Watch me."

"What if I don't get you a camera?"

I pout and give him puppy dog eyes. "Then I'll be very sad."

"Fine," he huffs.

"Whipped," I joke.

"Want me to whip your ass?"

"Spank me daddy," I laugh.

He props up on his elbows, his frame hovering over me, watching my mouth move as I speak.

"Have you ever seen the movie Summer School?"

"Can't say I have."

"Comedy, shit movie. A coach has to teach remedial English over the summer. We should watch it sometime."

"Do you want to watch a movie? We can't stay up too late, you have school tomorrow."

"So do you teacher."

He tosses a pillow at me, muffling my laughter.

I swear on my life, I'm going to marry this man.

I lift up the hem of his shirt, my fingers brushing over his tattoos.

"I know what else I want for my birthday."

His tongue flicks over his bottom lip and he smirks, his honey colored eyes glimmering.

"What's that babe, wild birthday sex?"

"No, well yes but that's not what I was going to say. Let's get matching tattoos."

"I like that idea," he hums. "That's permanent though, are you sure?"

"Positive. Isn't our love permanent?"

He falls back onto the bed beside me, a smile on his face.

"Our mums do need to meet. They would enjoy each other's company."

"Trisha is getting better babe."

His hand rubs my back soothingly. My toes curl as I let out a content purr.

"She'll get to see our wedding."

"What's with you and getting married?"

Says the guy that swore he'd marry his teacher three minutes ago.

He kneads my tense shoulders, working out the knots.

"I'm getting old. You should give me a massage."

Hot oil massage. Noted.

"You are not," I laugh. "If I look as good as you when I'm twenty three-"

"Don't even go there. You're turning nineteen."

"Our age gap isn't even big. It sucks that I'm your student. I mean it shouldn't fucking matter. I'm an adult. Who cares if we're having sex?"

"They'll get the wrong idea Harry, people will accuse me of changing your grade and shit. They could technically fire me."

"But it isn't like we have sex at school. I don't want to be afraid of being seen with you. I want to eat at a fancy restaurant or go on a picnic. I want to do cliché couple shit with you. I would give you the world Zayn. And lots of poems."

"I'm giving you your camera early and you're going to let me take loads of pictures of you."

I chuckle, my eyelids fluttering closed.

"Okay but I want you in some."

"We can do that."


	34. sedatives and loose leaf paper

he is  
the sun  
and i stare  
up at him  
longingly  
waiting  
for a   
glimpse  
to shine   
down   
on me  
but   
all i do  
is go  
blind

now   
i hate  
the sun  
and prefer  
shadows

he cracked   
the code,  
deciphered  
my heartbeats  
and every  
staggered  
breath

"Spilling your heart on loose leaf paper?"

I smile up at him, realizing I've lost track of time again.

maybe  
the night   
is fractured   
and the  
stars are  
shivering

"Why are they so depressing today Harry?"

I shrug, chewing on the cap of my pen.

"That's a bad habit you know."

"So is smoking but you're getting better. I nust need time," I huff dramatically.

"Okay," he chuckles.

"Zayn," I say hesitantly.

"Yes love?"

"I was thinking about storms."

"Storms," he confirms.

"They let us know that sometimes the sky needs to scream. Sometimes though people say something took them by storm, like they're raptured. Storms are usually referred to in a literal sense but what about the storm that rages inside of me? What about the electric lightning I feel? And the rain inside my heart?"

His knuckles graze over mine as his soft amber eyes meet my face.

"Why does it rain in your heart babe?"

"It hasn't since I met you but it still storms. It storms when you touch me."

His hand caresses my cheek and my eyes close.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."

Pablo Neruda again. He kills me everytime.

"You forgot the beginning babe. I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body."

"We're probably the only two people on Earth weird enough to memorize entire poems."

I just shrug and lean in to peck his lips.

"It isn't weird to me. It's one of the things we bond over."

I rip a page out of my notebook and crumple it up, aiming for the waste basket.

"What are you throwing away?"

"I'm discarding memories."

...

"Hey Harry."

Oh God.

"What do you want Sam?"

I slam my locker door closed before turning to her, a cold expression on my face.

"I just wanted to apologize for the hateful things I said. I-"

"We're over. I'm not having sex with you. I'm not good anyway, remember?"

I pivot on my heel my her arm catches my elbow.

"I didn't mean it. You know I still have feelings for you. Remember when we used to go to the park and share earbuds and drink tea until we were sick? We went ice skating and you fell flat on your ass, remember," she laughs. "And that one time we went skinny dipping in the creek-"

"Stop. All you wanted to do was get wasted. You were fucking numb and so was I. Remember all the stupid parties? Drinking games and body shots and sexual Jenga...just juvenile shit. That wasn't love Sam."

Her eyes grow wet as she moves in, her arms wrapping around me.

Warm tears soak my shirtsleeve.

Peachy.

"I miss you Harry. I miss what we had. Please, don't be a stranger."

I want to feel sorry for her but I just can't.

"There's a fire in my heart but it's not burning for you."

She pulls away, sadness clinging to her lashes.

"Who? Who does it burn for?"

My eyes search hers and I swallow. There's no way I'm telling her the truth.

"Tell me Harry," she snaps.

I push her aside, my legs carrying me down the hallway.

"Don't think this is over! Don't think I'll just forget," her voice booms.

"Har, are you okay?"

"Sam," I heave out. "She's suspicious."

Louis rolls his eyes and resumes his conversation with Liam.

"Geez Harry, she's a total ditz. Who cares? She probably went crawling back because she's fucked the entire male body and decided you weren't half bad."

"You're right," I say relieved. "Thanks Ni."

I glance down at my unwashed ink stained hands. I really should wash them and grab something to eat but I'm not hungry.

I feel sick. Sick because she touched me again. So I flip open my notebook and do the only thing I know how to.

flames   
burning   
behind   
my eyes  
flickering  
just for you   
bright

b r i g h t  
warm burnt orange   
and sunflower   
yellow

My heart is bleeding again.

But this time the paper is bounded.

My stomach is in knots and my mind is hazy.

I can't seem to stop my hand from shaking as it grazes over the pages.

I've attempted suicide.

Sometimes my mind is the scariest place to travel.

suicide is  
strong   
mixed drinks  
from strangers   
and shared  
sloppy kisses  
with Sam   
it's hands  
pushing you   
clumsily  
onto a bed  
and your hand  
sliding up  
under a  
slutty dress  
it's suffocation   
from some  
cheap perfume  
and being  
strangled by  
dyed hair  
it's murmuring   
sweet nothings   
and letting   
fake moans  
slip past  
your lips  
it's denying  
yourself   
sweet short  
stories and   
beautiful stanzas  
poetry and   
late night  
convos  
about symbolism   
and the strength  
of the moon  
it's waiting   
too long  
to touch  
a tan skined  
raven haired  
man with  
warm hands  
and a heart  
of gold   
it's not  
letting yourself   
get lost in   
honey colored   
eyes and   
drinking in  
the sweet   
taste of  
his baby   
pink lips  
it's not   
telling him  
that

my pen drops to the floor, my body slumping in my chair

and my head hits the table with a bang

...

"Sedatives. Are you fucking crazy? I was in the hospital for drug abuse and you think it's a good idea to take sedatives? For what Harry? You were so mad at me then and now you do this? You're such a hypocrite."

"I thought they'd help me relax I didn't know that-"

His eyes land on my bandage. "Those can increase suicidal tendecies Harry. Fuck," he tugs at his hair and pulls in his bottom lip with his teeth.

"I'm sorry," I say hoarsely.

"We're so messed up Harry. Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What if someone-"

"Like I give two shits what people think about us."

I scan to make sure the nurse is gone. Thankfully she is.

He places his hand on the small on my back and guides me out to his car.

"I'm still groggy."

"No duh," he snarls.

His nostrils flare but his anger isn't sexy. It's just terrifying.

"Zayn," I whisper.

He loosens his grip on the steering wheel and my head falls back onto the head rest, my eyes threatening to close.

"There are certain things that I have done-"

His eyes are glued to the pavement, yellow and white marks passing by. Lights turning from green to yellow to red.

We stop at one and he glances over at me, his eyes probing for an explanation.

"But I'm certain I am yours."

He unbuckles his seat belt and climbs over the console to cup my face, his lips finding mine.

I'm fully aware we're at a traffic light

and someone honks behind us


	35. forever and coffee rings

*more smut peeps

"Harry, wake up."

I open my eyes and let out a small little yawn, the drowsiness wearing off.

"Zayn I'm sorry."

"You already apologized babe."

He kisses my hairline, his fingers getting tangled in my hair and I return a sheepish smile.

"I think you need some coffee. Get your lasy arse out of bed."

"You love my ass."

He rolls his eyes playfully and tugs me up out of bed.

"Hi Zayn," I giggle, my nose pressing to his.

"Why do you feel the need to say hi...as if we haven't been engaged in a conversation."

"Engaged in a conversation," I mimick.

"Oh you're going to get it curly."

"Bite me."

I underestimate him because he does just that, moving curls from my neck to bite my skin gently, just beneath my earlobe.

"S-shit Zayn."

"Got a stutter babe?"

"Shut up," I chuckle. "I didn't think you'd actually bite me, you vampire freak."

"You're the freakishly pale one, not me. I obviously get sun."

I scoff dramatically. "You're naturally tan. It isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair. What are you going to do, cry?"

I punch his shoulder and he tackles me, pinning me to the bed.

"My lazy ass just got up," I tease. "Thought that's what you wanted."

His tongue slicks his pastel pink bottom lip, his eyes aglow.

"I think you know what I want."

"Shhhh," I murmur.

And I take his in my mouth.

It's swift and sloppy but it only takes a few short minutes before he's coming, moaning my name.

"wipe  
the back  
of your  
hand,  
your lips  
red raw  
and hair  
a tangled   
mess of   
curls"

He fists my shirt, pulling me in for a kiss that makes me delirious. I whimper as he bites at my bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it.

Fierce.

Fierce and deep and so so good.

"Zayn I need you."

"You have me," he breathes out softly.

But he knows what I mean, pulling me into the bathroom.

"We were just in the bedroom. Are you crazy?"

"Do you trust me?"

I nod, my head light as he bends me over the sink, his hands tugging at my hair.

"Hey," he murmurs, his lips grazing my earlobe. "Don't be shy. Look at you."

My gaze lifts upward, my eyes locking on my reflection in the mirror.

flushed cheeks  
half-lidded eyes  
and he takes  
me from   
the back,  
leaving praises   
on my skin,  
mouthing at  
my warm   
shoulder

but then  
it all stops  
and he kisses  
me slowly,  
delicately  
our lips  
softly smacking,  
tongues touching  
alliteration   
alliteration   
alliteration   
personification   
as my heart   
dances inside  
my ribcage

he's in  
my lungs  
and courses  
through   
my veins  
i shiver  
and shiver  
both inside  
and out

"Zayn," I pull away, my voice frantic.

"Babe," he knits his brows together, his thumbs tracing circles in my back.

"I want you to know you're my favorite everything. It isn't just this. It's the bickering over radio stations and you laughing over my obsession with David Bowie. It's over-analyzing sappy poems and me using up all your hot water. It's us sneaking around and me telling shitty jokes because you love a good laugh-"

I stop to catch my breath, wagging my finger in the air.

"It's you calling me a beanie wearing hipster and making my heart giddy. You're the reason I want to wake up every morning. I just thought I should tell you now because...I don't know," I blush furiously and he cups my cheeks.

"I love you," is all he says back.

But fuck it's enough. It's always enough.

"You're my all and more," he sighs and presses a kiss to my throat.

My pulse beats beneath his lips and my legs are sweaty, my jeans suddenly seemingly unbelievably tight as I grapple at them. It isn't smooth at all and I busrt into bright laughter.

A small smile tugs at his lips as I manage to pry them off.

He scoops me into his arms, laying me down on the bed.

"Hurry up and graduate already," he jokes.

He kisses everywhere. My mouth, the warm patch of skin beneath my chin and the back of my knees. Places I didn't know were sensitive.

It makes my pulse flutter against his lips like it's trapped in a cage and is ready to take flight.

He strokes me slowly and I pant into his mouth, unable to form coherent sentences.

His fingers work inside of me, stretching me out.

"Harry, your cheeks are deliciously pink and your hair is the color of milk chocolate."

"But I taste like vanilla."

"Do you?"

He licks me as he eases his fingers out. Slow, wet circles until my hips buck and I threaten to come.

And he strokes at my prostate, his fingers scissoring me open again as his tongue works alongside them.

"Look at me love," I do, my legs trembling.

I can't wait any longer, my hand slipping under my thigh, inserting a finger inside myself.

"So impatient."

"Feels good," I mutter.

"I make you feel good," he whispers softly.

He kneels between my legs, easing in his tip. My toes splay and I let out a little mewl.

And he pushes in deeper. My knuckles catch on the head of his cock as my hips snal forward.

"Harry," he whispers so I move my hand and eases in deeper.

It makes me gasp.

"Forever Zayn," I pant. "Forever, forever, fore-" and I come so hard I nearly black out.

He dips down to capture my lips.

"Forever."

...

"The coffee is cold now," I pout.

"Oh I'm sorry babe, I didn't know you preferred coffee to sex."

I roll my eyes as I turn the oven to bake.

"Cinnamon rolls?"

"What else," I chuckle.

"There are coffee rings on my side table. Know anything about that?"

"Guilty as charged."

"You little shit."

His laughter is sheer joy.

"You better figure out a way to get rid of those circles. M'not joking Harry."

"Zayn, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to I just-"

"I'm kidding babe. Relax."

"I hate you."

"Weren't you moaning my name five minutes ago?"

I giggle, pressing my finger into his chest, our eyes meeting as I ask

"isn't that your favorite sound?"


	36. icing and drunk dancing

"You rented out a hotel venue? Louis what the hell?"

"Hey," Liam says sternly. "Don't be like that. We wanted to surprise you. It's just that room with all the big round tables, with the dancefloor-"

"This isn't for a wedding reception guys, I'm turning nineteen."

"That is a big deal," Lou smirks. "Lots of presents, loads of alcohol and wild birthday sex."

I wave him off and turn to Niall who just returns me a goofy grin.

"Don't give me that look, you're in on this too."

"Hope you like cake. I test tasted a few just for you."

Of course he did.

"Lighten up," Liam slings his arm around my neck and Louis narrows his eyes. "It's going to be lit."

He winks and Louis bursts into laughter as he praises his boyfriend. "Good one babe."

"God, you spend too much time together. What if someone sees that my teacher showed up to my birthday party? You idiots! You invited half the school."

"Oh," Niall drops his sandwich back onto his napkin. "You're right. I didn't really think of that."

"Luckily I did," Liam interrupts. "I booked you a room. Zayn can just chill until you're ready to crash."

"My boyfriend is so brilliant," Louis boasts.

I just roll my eyes, thankful Liam has a functioning brain.

"He's just going to be locked in his room for hours?"

"I'm sure he'll find something to do."

My friends are stupid. Stupid and irrational but I love them and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

...

It's a frenzy of sweaty bodies grinding and deep bass booming through the speakers. It's me making my hips sway to the rhythm and taking shots with Louis.

My movements grow sloppy and Niall shouts something drunkenly, laughing until he's red in the face. I'm not sure what was said but in the moment it's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard and I double over in laughter.

The music vibrates within my body and my brain buzzes. I don't think I've ever been this wasted. 

My movements turn sloppy and I grow incredibly hard as I watch a random couple get handsy.

There's a sheen of sweat on my bare chest and it pools at my hairline. I'm fully aware that I'm a complete mess and my feet grow clumsy. I run into a warm body. He turns around and smiles, his soft chocolate brown eyes meeting mine, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"L-liam," I slur. "I need to get out of here."

It's suddenly all too much, the music deafening, the heat stifling.

"We can open presents tomorrow." He smells like alcohol but he's seemingly sober, grabbing my clammy hand and pulling me into the hallway.

"Okay," my heavy eyelids close but open again when the elevator dings.

"I brought up some cake earlier. Zayn didn't seemed too bothered by this, he was watching some crime show."

I smile stupidly as he knocks on the door. My ears are ringing and the sensitivity makes me cover them. It seems like forever before he opens the door.

He bites back a grin and thanks Liam, tugging me into the room.

"You're so pretty," I giggle.

"Thank you," he chuckles.

"I can't believe you're m...my boyfriend."

"Tongue tied?"

He helps me out on my jeans with a sigh because I keep fumbling with the zipper. I nearly topple over as I lose my balance but he places his hand on the small of my back, steadying me.

I kiss him rather sloppily, my wet tongue lapping over his tan skin. His lips are sweet like vanilla buttercream. It occurs to me that I didn't even have a slice of cake but I can chase the taste on his lips.

He doesn't seem to mind that I'm sweaty and smell like vodka and peach schnapps. He smells slightly of tobacco but I'm too faded to realize its because he's had a smoke. He smells musky and sweet all at once, like wood sap and black orchid.

I'm so drunk it reminds me of my first trip to London. It's opulence and grandeur and an old gentleman's club.

It's redolent of something I can't grasp in my drunken state but I'm itching to feel him. I'm hoping his body will help me remember.

I grapple at his jeans but he glides my hand away.

"Harry," he whispers.

His voice is so quiet in comparison to the party that I have to strain to hear him.

a mere  
whisper  
getting lost  
in a dark  
unfamiliar   
room

"I need you," I whimper.

"I know babe. I know," his fingers massage my scalp and I let out a content purr. It makes my body tingle and I don't want him to stop. "I don't want this right now Harry, not like this. You're too drunk."

I nod, my head heavy.

"I'll still be here in the morning, okay?"

He's being reasonable but my lip quivers and I shed drunken tears nonetheless.

"Oh baby, don't cry."

His arms wrap around me and he hushes me and presses a gentle kiss to my warm cheek.

My body feels like fire, fondness spreading through my abdomen.

I'm doting on him, craving his affection like a kid craves candy.

But he's so tender I can't help myself.

"I've got you babe."

I've got you beb. I've got you, I've got you, I've-

He places me on the bed and my head hits the pillow with a thunk.

His body slips under the covers beside me, his fingers lacing with mine.

and my heart

s  
t  
u  
t  
t  
e   
r  
s

more than my words

...

I register everything as my eyes snap open and I sit up in bed, my head pouding.

The bitter taste of cheap alcohol sticks to my tongue and I groan. My body is terribly sore and there's a dull ache in my neck.

Zayn's touch lingers on my skin but the sheets are rumpled, the bed empty beside me.

My eyes finally adjust to the burning bright light and squint to focus on the clock.

The sound of the door closing startles me and I land on the floor with a loud thump.

I'm met with light laughter and tan skin. Deliciously tan skin and jet black hair. I drink him in, supposing it's more pleasant to be drunk on perfectly sculptured cheekbones and chiseled abs than some cheap drink Lou passes me.

My eyes are glued to his full pink lips. I want to kiss them over and over until my own lips are swollen, as red as a candied cherry atop a mixed drink.

It takes me ages to realize why he left to begin with, my gaze falling to the present he's holding.

"The pit of my stomach is warm. I feel all fuzzy," I smile.

He gives me a pill and a glass of water which I gladly chug down, my throat dry.

"I want a particular present today."

"I'm sure you do," he grins. "Open this one first. I can open you up later."

My cheeks flush as laughter bubbles out of me.

"Have I ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh?"

"You have now."

I rip into the wrapping paper, tearing off the bow and placing it on Zayn's head.

"So cute," I coo.

"I hate you," he jokes and tucks a curl behind my ear. "You need a shower too."

"You're a meanie," I pout.

But he isn't because I expect a Fuji but it's a vintage one step with retro stripes. And it's fucking perfect.

"Shall we snap a few photos?"

We take a bunch, our cheeks presses together, our lips locked, our tongues poking out.

"I'll help you shower and then we can work on your second gift."


	37. bend before you break

"I know your secret Harry."

"Sam I'm not interested in your bullshit."

"Mr. Malik," she hisses.

I stop dead in my tracks, my heart thudding in my chest.

"I knew it. I knew it!"

"How," I respond breathlessly.

"You've never been one to keep secrets. Walk away and I won't say a word."

"The hell I will," I shout.

Rage is boiling inside me, my fists clenching.

"I missed your birthday party," she frowns. "How tragic. Did I miss sloppy sex? Did I miss your mouth tracing his skin? Did I miss an English lesson?"

"Fuck you. You bitch," someone pulls me back as hatred spews out of my mouth. "I hate you so much, you don't understand-"

"Funny because you used to tell me you loved me when you were deep inside of me."

I'm so mad I can't even see straight.

"So are you really into guys or do need a grade bump?"

"Harry," Liam warns. "Come on."

"She knows Liam. Oh my god, she knows, she," I gulp for air.

"Breathe Harry. Let's go find Zayn."

If my hand wasn't already fucked up I'm slam it into a locker, I'd ram my head into the wall. I'd smash my skull into a billion puzzle pieces.

"Bitch," I scream as Liam drags me down the hall. People are staring at me flailing in Liam's arms, my neck flinching, my veins popping.

"Harry," Zayn's face drops, his smile faltering as he sees the terror in my eyes.

"I swear I didn't tell her Zayn. I swear on my life. Please, please," I tug at his shirt, my lip quivering.

"What?"

"Sam," Liam finishes.

"No," Zayn tugs harshly at his hair, his hand trembling as it slides down the side of his face, stopping at his chin. "Harry what in the hell am I supposed to do?

"Hey," Liam's jaw sets tight. "This isn't his fault.

"Fuck. This is my fault. Getting involved with a student-"

"Student," I spit. "What am I to you Zayn? A mistake? She gave me an ultimatum. We can break it off now. I understand how complicated this must be for you, getting entangled in-"

"Stop. I didn't mean it."

"It fucking hurt anyway."

"You know I love you, yeah? M'not giving up on us this easily."

He pulls me into his arms and Liam sighs happily. His fingers ruffle my hair.

"I'm sorry babe. Sorry I made you upset."

And maybe it isn't the best timing but I kiss his desperately, drinking in his taste, my tongue parting his lips. He moans into my mouth and my heart pounds, pounds, pounds.

I pull away and he moves a stray curl. "Do you think it was Mason?"

"Only one way to find out."

He puts him on speaker.

"Did you tell someone about us?"

"Are you bloody kidding? No! I want to protect you. I see how happy he makes you, it's something I just never could do. I like Harry. I swear to God Zayn. This can get you fired, why would I ruin your career? All you ever talked about was teaching the art of poetry and translating words into emotion and I never really understood but it was beautiful. I didn't get it but Harry does."

Something inside me tells me trust Mason and I pray it isn't a mistake.

"I have an idea Zayn. Is Harry with you?"

"Yes."

"Let's set up the snitch. What if they're the one in a sexual relationship with you? You get where I'm coming from?"

I have to admit, it's genius.

"Okay," Zayn's hand scratches over his stubble. "We should set up a camera in my classroom. How do I get her to touch me though, she isn't into me?"

"I think I have an idea," I smirk, the wheels turning in my head.

...

"You've got to be kidding me babe. Can you even walk in those heels?"

"Don't I look pretty? Do you like my wig?"

"Her tattoos Harry. She has colored arm tattoos."

"Shit, I need to change into a long-sleeve dress."

"Are you wearing lipstick?"

"Shut up. I need to wear something more flowy. I'm too stocky to be a female."

I quickly change back into my clothes and wipe off the lipstick with a tissue.

"Mason will be here soon to set up the camera. We better think of somehing."

There's a knock on the door. Expecting Mason I open it.

And regret it immediately.

"Mr. Styles," Principal Jones smiles fakely. "Come with me."

My heart knocks around like a pinball before settling at the bottom of my chest. Her eyes land on Zayn as she adds "you're next."

I glance back once, tears blurring my vision. Zayn doesn't even look at me, his eyes focused on the tiled floor.

"Please take a seat."

"How are you today? Well?"

I shoot a charming dimpled little smile but she frowns in return, ignoring my question.

"Is there a reason you were alone with Mr. Malik?"

"Needed extra help with something. Is that a crime?"

"Certainly not, we encourage extra guidance here. That doesn't change the complaint I received."

"Complaint," I play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever been sexually involved with Mr. Malik?"

I huff, crossing my arms.

"Are you calling me gay?"

This catches her off guard. Just act Harry. Play the game.

"Who is your source?"

"They wish to remain anonymous."

"You know Sam is mad at me because she thought I was flirting with someone else at my birthday party. I feel really guilty about it. I wasn't trying to come onto anyone, I really do love her-"

"I didn't say anything about her. We're talking about you. You know you can be expelled."

"For what? You don't have any proof."

She taps her fake nails against the cherry colored desk.

"Do you think Mr. Malik will give me the same story?"

"There's nothing to hide," I assure.

But I gulp, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I hope Zayn doesn't break.


	38. hands in your hair

*more fluff and sexual shit

"Guess you're stuck with me for the rest of the semester."

"Oh thank God," I release a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

"Guess who got caught cheating on an exam?"

"Karma is a bitch."

"Not a very reliable source, huh? Mrs. Jones figured she wasn't trustworthy. That was so close."

I throw my arms around him, tears soaking his shirt.

"I can't graduate soon enough," I sniffle, wiping away my tears.

"You can say that again," he chuckles. "Come to my place tonight, I have something special planned."

"Okay," I blush. "You don't have to you know."

"I want to. We can consider it our first official date."

...

"A bed fort! Where did you get the fairy lights?" Ooohh the canopy is so pretty. Zayn," I kiss his cheek and he smiles satisfied.

"How does Chinese food sound?"

"Perfect," I peck his lips and he's quick to order chicken fried rice.

"We should watch that lame movie you told me about."

"No. Sleepless in Seattle," I whine.

"I love that movie," he beams.

"You're growing out your hair."

His chin is scruffy, my fingers scratch at his forming beard and his eyes flutter closed.

"Do you like that," my breath fans across his neck and I see him suck in a tiny breath, his chest rising and falling as it presses against me.

"Yes," he sighs.

letting my  
hands get  
lost in  
raven black  
tufts of hair  
fingers   
and thumbs

I push him onto the pillows but there's a knock on the door and I curse my timing.

"Babe, get off of me. That's our takeout."

"Not hungry for that," I rasp out.

"Harry," he grumbles.

"Okay, okay." 

We share the takeout box, two forks digging into the rice as the television flickers.

My head falls onto his shoulder and it hits me.

He's my forever. This is just the beginning.

"There's something I want to do to you."

"That sounds sexual," he smirks.

"Borderline. Shirt off."

He places the takeout on the coffee table and unbottons his flannel, laughing as I wander off the fetch my backpack.

"Are you doing homework or are you doing me?"

"Be quiet Zayn."

I pull out a bottle and his brows arch in surprise.

"Rosemary scented oil?"

I warm up the oil and rub it down his sides over and over until his eyes flutter closed. They massage his stomach, tracing circles around his bellybutton.

His breath hitches as I undo his zipper and his jeans come off, my hands moving lower to stroke the inside of his thighs. His eyes snap open, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"Never knew you were this good with your hands. Maybe you should-"

He's cut short as my hand wraps around his member, stroking slowly.

The movie is just background noise, the light being emitted from the screen casting shadows beneath his jaw, his long black lashes leaving shadows on his smooth cheek.

I trail kisses down his jaw and let my tongue slip into his mouth as my hand continues to pump. His moan hits the back of my throat, making my cock twitch and my heart trill.

And he shoots his load all over my hand.

"Sorry babe," there's a faint blush on his cheeks that's so beautiful I want to cry.

"Such a mess," I scoop back down to caress his cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"My turn," he murmurs.

And he asserts his dominance, flipping me over as my arms wrap around his neck.

"Bring any condoms babe?"

I nod breathless as he tears open a packet.

"So prepared," he smiles.

"Forgot the lube," I blush.

He inserts his finger into his mouth, slicking it up before it stretches me out.

"Ever heard of spit?"

"He swap it all the time."

"Your mouth is filthy Harry."

I smirk as I question "then why do you kiss it?"

"Don't be naughty."

"You should be naughty. Whisper dirty things in my ear. Fuck me deep into the pillows."

A second finger slips in and he jokingly says "we need some Bon Iver or Damien Rice."

"Ever heard of Björk?"

"I have now."

I can't think straight after that and my insides tremble.

He stops to kiss me. His mouth is so unbelievably soft, I never get used to it. His beard scratches my upper lip and brushes across the corner of my mouth before tickling my chin.

My pulse is strumming in my throat.

His finger rubs at my taint I could come just from that. He bites at my jaw, a low noise forming at the back of my mouth and his teeth catch my lower lip.

I can't wait for him to roll on a condom and thrust into me so my hand falls to my side and tugs roughly at my member. I pant softly and he gives my ass a firm little squeeze, his hands dragging up over my back, my shoulders and my chest.

He pinches at my sensitive buds and I let out a gasp.

I feel it building, my stomach tensing before my whole body

spasms  
toes splaying,  
back arching  
and spine   
tingling  
my nerves  
on edge  
as he whispers  
i love you

My body relaxes as he ever so gently milks the lazt drop, with short, deliberate tugs.

"We could waste a whole night getting each other off, just our warm mouths and gentle hands."

My heart is stirring, going mad in my ribcage, clawing to get out. I'm aching to be touched by him again.

It's been mere seconds but I'm so eager, my emerald eyes sparkling.

I lay down face buried in the pillows, knees tucked up under me.

"You're being such a good boy for me," Zayn praises.

He sits behind me and I have to bite one of the pillows, the soft heat of his skin so close my cock strains.

I'm still hard and it hurts when the head catches on the sheets he has layed out.

A pitiful whine slips past my lips so his finger traces down my spine before he kisses the nape of my neck. He bites down softly at my shoulder, the warm inside of his mouth leaving a trail of saliva.

He grips at my cheeks, spreading me open, his hot breath fanning across my tight hole.

He presses a soft kiss to my flinching skin and his tongue flicks across quickly. His beard tickles but he soon moves, dragging his flat rough tongue over my cheeks and inbetween my quaking legs to my sensitive balls.

I've never felt something quite like this but my mind is spinning.

It laps over my hole and

ohhh

it's wet

and so good

so so so so so good

It gets even wetter, as he gives a slick and sloppy kiss. One so dirty it draws a sound from the back of my throat.

and another sound  
and another and another   
i can't even remember   
my name  
or the name of  
the movie on   
the flatscreen  
but before long  
i'm moaning   
my hands   
fisting in  
the silken  
sheets

When he pauses to breathe I'm met with a sudden gust of cold air that rivals the heat of his mouth. My toes curl up. My hole clenches up and then loosens again

the span   
of my  
heartbeats  
grows shorter  
as it beats  
frantically,  
my whole  
body pulsing

again and again

His nails dig into my flesh, his mouth still working at my tender skin. His stubble is rough as it scratches along my flesh.

My cock is even harder now, his tongue lashing against my hole.

"Zayn," I moan. "Slower."

My cheek is creased against a pillow that's wet with my own dribble.

The wild thump of my heart won't slow but his movements do.

He bites at my left cheek before putting a lazy open-mouthed kiss to my hole. There's a bit of suction, his tongue rubbing against me gently.

My sock is swollen now, my heartbeat erratic.

His tongue presses inside me and I claw at the sheets.

It keeps working at the rim and delving back in.

"More Zayn," I beg.

Pleads and demands keep spilling from my mouth.

I whimper as his tongue leaves.

"Don't be a naughty boy Harry."

With that I disobey, touching myself and he leaves a hard slap on my right cheek. It stings and my eyes water. He kneads at the assaulted flesh for a bit before flipping me over onto my back.

"I'm sorry Zayn," I pout.

"Shhh babe. Now the condom can be put to use, yeah?"

"Yeah," I echo breathlessly. "Do most people go this far on a first date?"

His eyes glitter as he licks the shell of my ear and whispers "we aren't most people."


	39. clumsy feet and mother figures

Trisha and my mum really hit it off, swapping recipies and reminiscing.

"Harry would streak around naked and I couldn't catch him."

Zayn entwines our fingers on the couch, his body shaking with laughter.

"Don't laugh Zayn, you wet your bed until you were-"

"Mum," he groans.

It's my turn to laugh at him as my mum's nimble fingers flip through an old scrapbook.

"You were so cute babe."

"I still am," I pout.

His eyes twinkle and he smiles before pecking me on the lips.

"You still are," he assures.

"I know I'm still young Zayn but I'm so in love."

My head falls onto his shoulder and Trisha coos.

"Why didn't I have a love story like these two?"

Mum shakes her head probably thinking the same thing and my heart does a somersault.

My lips find his earlobe as I say "I hope we're always like this."

"Don't worry love," his thumbs rub cricles in my hips and I fight back tears.

I never dreamed I would fall in love at eighteen and be stuck in love at nineteen.

"Anne, I'm taking Harry to my place. Enjoy the Yorkshire pudding."

"Thank you sweetie."

Sloppy cheek kisses are shared before Zayn snatches my hand and leads me out the door.

It's pouring rain so he opens his umbrella and opens the car door for me.

...

"Are you cold babe?"

I nod and we huddle together under a blanket.

His skin radiates heat and his warm mouth presses to mine.

my wrists are almost healed now

my wrists  
sung for him  
picking a tune  
from open wounds

"Tell me again about the storm within your heart."

"It's you Zayn. You take me by storm. I drown in thoughts of you."

"I don't want you to drown babe."

"But I want to, let me sit in the rain, let me-"

and his   
wet lips   
are moist  
like  
raindrops

hot words  
leap across   
my skin  
and suddenly  
i'm stretching   
out,  
touching   
the soft   
yielding warmth  
of his skin

He pulls away and I gasp for air.

"I love listening to our hearts beat languages we can't translate word for word."

"Me too but...can we dance?"

"You pick the song."

"I'll sing for you," I smile.

i wear your winter coat   
the one you love to wear  
so i keep feeling close   
to us beyond compare   
the moment we can have   
you catch me in your eyes   
that beauty on my pillow   
that holds me in the night   
and i will my strength   
to untape my mouth   
when i used to be afraid of the words  
but with you i've learned   
just to let it out   
now my heart is ready to burst

"You sing and move so gracefully but I can't even move my feet."

A tear slips from his eye but I'm quick to kiss it away.

"Why are you crying babe? Hey," my lips find the corner of his mouth. "I'm never going to let anything come between us. You know that right?"

He nods, his lashes wet with tears.

"How can you be so sure? Do you know what it's like to have everything ripped away from you? I," he chokes on his words as my arms envelope him.

My fingers ruffle his hair.

"I'm yours."

"I woke up at three in the morning, alone Harry. Not a single text or phone call and I felt so cold. Cold and empty like my heart was hollow, just taking up space in my ribcage. I didn't know a heart could convey that much pain. It was sheer agony."

My heart hiccups because it's a terrifying reality. I feel his sadness creep up my own chest. How do you get over that, someone taking your heart and running off with it?

"I need you to be sure of it Zayn," my words get lost in the crook of his neck. "I'm yours."

one kiss so he knows  
two kisses so he can remember   
three kisses just for emphasis

It must have felt like getting punched repeatedly in the stomach.

Like a knife puncturing his heart.

So I run the pad of my thumb alomg his bottom lip.

He's mine too, his passion for me seeping out of his bones, his skin weeping with love.

swift   
consuming pain   
and traitorous   
words   
bone crushing   
pain and fresh   
hot tears   
stomach clenching

I hope he believes every word I gasp and breathe against his skin.

"Forever and always, your all and more."

eyes wide   
and wet   
chin trembling   
and heart recoiling   
in his ribs,   
snapping into two

His heart hammers with each word

"I've never loved like this before.I'll never leave you Zayn. We made a promise of our love."

 

"I know, I know. Why am I so scared?"

"I don't know Zayn."

I tug him onto the couch and pull him into my lap, my fingers carding through his soft hair.

"Thanks for dancing with me, even though you stepped on my foot."

"Sorry love."

"It's okay."

I smile and he pokes my dimples.

"Your happiness is my happiness."

"Without You by Cloves."

"What babe?"

My cheeks warm as I admit "I like that song. I know I talk about 70s British rock and The Rolling Stones but I'm a softie and that song is bloody beautiful."

if i fall can you pull me up   
is it true, your watching out   
and when I'm tired,   
do you lay down with me   
in my head so i can sleep without you  
hey, hey   
without you there's   
holes in my soul

"I can feel your heart thud against my back."

The rain is soothing and I hear the accompanying lull of his heart.

"When you're with me I like the rain but when you're away all it does is soak my clothes."

"Because I soak your soul."

"Yes," he sighs. "Drench my soul Harry."

His breathing grows swallow and his eyes close, soft snores coming from his slightly parted mouth.

He usually doesn't snore but he's probably exhausted. Final exams are coming up. That means grading and stress and frenzied last minute emails about grades.

It also means I'm graduating; that we're free but I don't know where my future is heading.

I want him in it.

That's the only thing I'm certain of.


	40. tassels and thumbs to throats

*kinky Zaddy shit

"Let's goooooo," Niall shouts. "I can't believe it!"

"You can't get drunk before graduation, you idiot."

Louis smacks the back of his head and Liam has to break it up. I snatch the beer out of Niall's hand with a sigh and chuck it into the trash.

"Guys let's just get to school and get this ceremony over with. Then we can go fucking insane."

Liam offers to drive because he's a total dad and gives an entire pep talk about how we'll be successful, we just need to stay focused. Don't lose motivation blah blah blah.

"I don't have anything planned. You're all leaving me to go off to uni. I haven't even landed an internship anywhere. Zayn has been stressed about my problems, phoning people to say I have talent. It isn't his responsibility."

"You should be happy he cares," Louis grins. "He wants you to work close by so you can fuck every night."

"Oi, shut up."

It's a serious matter. I need to find a job or I'll be forced to go to school.

We ride in silence all the way to the school, my bad mood killing any conversation.

"My head is throbbing and this stupid cap looks ridiculous."

"Harry," Li sighs. "Don't be that way. Everything will work out, okay?"

"Have you ever realized what bullshit this is, being stuck in school for years only to be confined to more school or being stuck in a cramped cubicle? We work our arses off to do more work. It's just so-"

I trail off in the middle of my rant as a particular person catches the corner of my eye. He's talking to none other than Principal Jones, a beaming smile on his face. She laughs and gestures wildly with her hands.

Maybe school wasn't so bad.

I found something I didn't know I was looking for.

Zayn.

"Hey," Liam smiles and follows my gaze, his arm looping around my neck. "You get to spend the rest of your life with him. If that isn't something to celebrate, I don't know what is."

A warm crimson flushes over my cheeks as I let that sink in. He bends down to adjust a microphone and Louis laughs "stop staring at his ass, it's flat."

I punch his shoulder. "It is not!"

He gives a little smirk before he adds "guess I wouldn't know, you're the expert," he winks.

Niall chuckles, his eyes skimming over the auditorium.

We have assigned spots in alphabetical order but we're still frozen in place, none of us ready to go off on our own.

It's just foreshadowing the future.

They all got accepted at the University of London and Niall is still begging me to give college a chance, reckoning the parties are better.

No amount of convincing will change my mind. I just want to sit in a chair and write until my fingers are numb.

My mum says it's okay but I get the feeling she's disappointed in me.

And that might just be the scariest thing I've ever heard.

Every teenager wants their parent's approval. They want assurance that everything will be okay, that they're going to make it.

Then again, nobody knows.

It's just nice to hear it

You're destined for great things

That doesn't make it true.

My heart is flopping in my chest, my stomach sinking.

Everyone scrambles and I stumble to my seat, my eyes finding my mum in the crowd.

What if I dissapoint her?

The smile on her face when they call my name and I walk across the stage tells me that it's impossible. She's proud of me.

So I smile genuinely and catch a subtle wink from a certain teacher.

That makes it all worth it.

...

"Your poetry collection," he says breathlessly. "Touched the innermost part of my soul."

I throw my arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"I'll touch you again, I promise."

"Let's go find your mum, yeah?" He's grinning from ear to ear and doesn't seem to care that people are staring as his hand slips into mine.

"Zayn," I warn.

"Hey, you aren't my student anymore."

"Am I still your favorite?"

He rolls his eyes but answers truthfully. "Yes Harry, you'll always be my favorite student."

"Zayn," I blush.

"Yes love?"

"Would you accompany me to Lou's graduation party?"

His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering.

"You want me to be your date to a high school party?"

Harry you idiot.

"Uh, maybe that was-"

"Of course."

"Really?"

I perk up, my dimples popping as I smile.

"God you're so cute. There's the lovely woman that made you," his head dips towards my mum. "Go give her a hug."

He gives me a little push and her eyes light up.

"I'm so proud of you baby."

She kisses the top of my head and my sensitive ass cries like a baby, all over her nice dress.

"Sorry," I sniffle.

He dabs her eyes with a tissue, her mascara smearing.

But she still looks beautiful.

"You're growing up so fast. I remember when you were-"

She stops abruptly and I untangle myself from her, my gaze landing where hers does.

"I took a picture on my phone because moments like these are precious. You don't know what you have until it's gone."

And my mum pulls Zayn into the hug.

"Welcome to the family," I joke.

Only I'm just partially joking.

...

"What is this shit Harry? Ever heard of amaretto or pinot noir?"

"I'm too cheap for that."

I wasn't too cheap for vodka and cranberry juice and a few shots of scotch.

"Well I might happen to have some Chardonnay. Is that...weed?"

He points over to Louis and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, Lou smokes a bit."

"Oh," his face falters.

"Zayn," I tug at his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Would you be mad if I smoked a little? It's been ages."

"I uh...whatever you want. I hate to be blunt but-"

"Wow, you're so fucking chill," Louis says.

Zayn just smirks and sets a spliff between his lips, nabbing the lighter to get it going. I just watch as he inhales deeply, his cheekbones hallowing before he exhales next to my cheek.

I'm in awe at his beauty, completely unaware that he's offering the spliff to me.

"Give it a try babe."

"I dunno," I blush. "I've never tried it."

"Feel babe."

He directs my hand to my chest as he takes a drag. I feel a sharp intake of breath and how his body relaxes as he releases, puffing out a cloud of smoke. His eyes are glossy, his lips obscenely red.

"Inhale, hold and exhale."

I give it a try but a coughing fit ensues and he has to pat my back.

"It's okay," he rasps out, his voice deep.

His lips wrap around it again, his fingers brushing over my jaw before dipping into my mouth.

I'm thoroughly confused but don't want to question it. Louis is observing us now, a stupid grin on his face. His fingers gently part my lips and he inhales deeply before leaning in, our eyes meeting, our mouths nearly touching and he exhales the smoke into my mouth. Unsure of what to do, I swallow and fight back a cough, my eyes watering slightly.

"Zayn that was..." I trail off, noting how scratchy and rough my voice has become.

"Hot," he finishes as he stubs out the spliff.

He bites at his bottom lip and grapples my hand pulling me onto the sofa. His hands cup the side of my face as I straddle his lap. He crushes our mouths together and tilts his head, making me moan deep into his throat. His thumb presses just beneath my chin so my mouth opens letting him slide in his moist soft pink tongue.

It hits the roof of my mouth and tangos with my tongue before tracing the outline of my lips.

Another moan escapes me, my fingers digging into his thighs.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his tongue flicking across my lower lip before he tugs gently with his teeth.

I whimper as he backs away, my lips swollen. His thumbs press against my throat, my breath hitching.

"You okay love?"

I nod, breathless and he adds a bit more pressure, my heart pounding like a drum.

I feel giddy, somewhat light-headed and the sensation goes to my cock, making me tingle.

He must feel me growing hard because he presses down just a tad more and my eyelids close, my breaths turning shallow.

"I wanna see you babe."

This makes my eyes snap back open. I wiggle around, trying to eliminate the discomfort but catch no relief.

So my hand travels to my member, palming through my jeans.

"Feel good babe?"

I nod, the intensity heightened as his thumbs press a smidge harder against the sides of my neck.

A wave of pleasure rushes over me as I fumble with my zipper. My hand delves under my boxers and I rub at my taint. It isn't enough so I dip my finger into my mouth to slick it up before trying again.

The alcohol is starting to course through my bloodstream and the lack of oxygen takes me to an euphoric state.

So I rub and rub until I'm soaking wet and faint moans are falling from my mouth.

I'm certain I'm going to black from the pleasure when he eases up on the pressure and I gasp.

Now I'm fully aware of the sticky mess in my underwear and the glint in his honey colored eyes.

"W-what was that?"

"Erotic asphyxiation."

I nod trying to collect my thoughts and a very amused Louis grows wide- eyed, the simple word "woah" tumbling out of his mouth.

Yeah, I think to myself.

Woah.


	41. warm hearts and cold pizza

"Holy fucking shit. Fuck," I mutter.

"Harry," he chuckles. "Chill babe."

Louis snorts as I muster the strength to get up, my legs unsteady.

"It's really hot in here," Lou winks.

Kill me now.

"Had to teach Harry a lesson on something?"

Zayn just smirks and pats his back, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Louis blushes furiously, mumbling something about going to find Liam.

"Let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"What did you...okay," I agree with a sigh.

...

"He what," Zayn gasps.

"Said your ass was flat."

"Oi, now I'm all insecure."

I chuckle as I ease off my boots and scoot to the edge of the bed.

"We gave him a show, the little shit. People would pay to see that."

Laughter is spilling out of me now, partially because of the alcohol in my system.

"Why are you so giggly?"

"No reason, pancake."

His jaw goes slack as he pushes me down and climbs on top of me, his eyes dark.

"Say it again Curly, I dare you."

I gulp and remain silent, debating whether or not I want to see feisty Zayn.

My fingers tug at his hair, my pulse drumming in my throat.

"That's what I thought," he clicks his tongue.

"You're sexy when you're angry."

"Ha, I'm always sexy."

"God, I can't believe you're a teacher."

He laughs and rolls off of me, his head hitting the pillow with a thud.

"I'm at your house more than mine."

"Well its yours too babe. What's mine is yours."

I sigh happily, my body moving closer to his.

"Are you hungry? I'm starving."

"Pancakes sound really good right now."

I bite back laughter and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Forget round two, you can get off on your own."

"Zayn," I whine.

"What babe? Are you gonna beg for it?"

I definitely would.

He gets up and switches on the lamp, his fingers dialing a number on his phone.

"Know it by memory, best pizza sauce ever."

"Why don't you just add the pizza place as a contact in your phone smartass? Teachers," I scoff. "Think they know everything."

"Oh, so now my ass is smart?"

I groan at how witty he is and bury my face in the pillow.

"I'll do that though. You're so brilliant babe."

"Whatever," I laugh. It's silent for a moment before I add "hey Zayn."

He taps his mouth to his finger as he orders a large cheese pizza.

When he hangs up he flops down on the bed beside me, a smile on his face.

"What love?"

"I was wrong for hating Mason."

His knuckles graze across my jaw.

"He hurt me Harry. I'm sure he didn't mean to, I was so bloody fucked up. I cam see why he cheated on me. I used to..."

He trails off, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Zayn," I whisper, my lips pressing to his cheek. "Be here with me."

My arms wrap around his slim figure protectively, my fingers gently massaging his sensitive scalp.

"Does that feel good babe?"

He nods and I give a small tug, unknotting a tangle.

We moans softly so I do it again just a bit harder.

"Tell me what you want Zayn," my lips move to his neck, my teeth biting down gently into his tan skin.

A tiny noise bubbles from the back of his throat, sending shivers down my spine.

"You're beautiful," I mumur, my breath hot under his earlobe.

I bite on his soft skin there too, tugging a bit before licking the inner shell of his ear.

"I had a pain kink," he blurts. "Mason knew that. I mean...the pain of him cheating on me was completely different and now I don't even want to think about it. Suddenly it doesn't turn me on the way it used to."

He shudders and I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I like this though," he sighs contently.

"What's that babe?"

"Taking things slow. The sensuality of your touch," his tongue peeps out of his mouth for a moment as he gets lost in thought. 

"Your lips," he breathes softly. "They skim my skin, they explore; they delve. It isn't rushed or frantic or mindless. I don't know how to explain it. It's like you're eager to discover something new, your hands grazing across my spine like I'm a newly released novel."

I love his words so much and the way his fingers trace over my chest, not missing a single heartbeat.

I smile up at him as his knuckles brush across the sliver of skin between my shirt and the waistband of my boxers. Up under the soft cotton blend of my shirt, his fingers spreading out across the small of my back.

There's a light rap at the door and Zayn sits up, slipping on some Nike slides to get the pizza.

We move temporarily to the kitchen and I find joy in spinning around on the barstool.

The cheese is gooey, a messy string getting stuck to his lips and I laugh at his stuggle. He does the same because there's sauce on my face that he dabs away with a napkin.

His beaming smile is just as bright as the Edison bulb shining above the bar. He catches me staring but in my defense he's glowing.

He sets down his partly eaten slice to take a sip of water and my mind tries to grasp how I can be with someone so lovely.

I grab his hand, my fingers tracing the back of his palm. He presses his nose to mine and dips down to kiss me.

"I love everything about you Harry."

It's so raw and honest my heart hitches.

"Kiss me again," I mumble.

He does and I part my lips for him. His mouth is hot and wet and familiar and chills spreading across my skin.

How does he always do this to me?

When he pulls away, he tucks a curl behind my ear and all I can think to say is "I want to lick your heart."

It makes entirely no sense but he smiles with his eyes, taking my hand and moving my hand over his chest. I can feel his heart strumming and something tells me I've already touched him there.

"The pizza is getting cold," I chuckle.

"Some things grow cold. Other things don't," he murmurs.

And nothing has ever affected me so much.


	42. living arrangements

There's an empty pizza box in the kitchen and no sign of Zayn.

My fingers tap lightly on the bar as I contemplate whether or not I should call him. I towel dry my wet ringlets and tug on his University of Cambridge hoodie. It smells like brown vanilla sugar and tobacco and my nose keeps dipping down to get a whiff.

My ring glints under the light and I smile before sliding it off and washing my hands.

I drop a few slices of bread into the toaster, humming as I turn up his under the counter radio.

look at the stars  
look how they shine for you  
and everything you do  
yeah, they were all yellow

I sing along cheerily as the bread pops back up and I spread some almond butter and add some banana slices before sprinkling some chia seeds.

My bare feet pad against the tile, dancing with myself when the door opens and bright laughter fills my ears.

"Good morning sunshine."

"I made toast."

"I can see that," he chuckles. "Thank you."

He pecks my lips and I pour myself some apple juice.

"That's pure sugar."

"Then why is it in your fridge Zayn? Huh, huh?" I press up against his chest, giggling and his only response is

"Have you already had a gallon of it? Geez Harry. You always had a bottle in class."

"Oh," I blush. "I never really knew you payed attention to that."

"You also love bananas."

I glance at the bread covered in banana slices and laugh.

"Just a little."

"My little monkey," he teases.

"Where were you off to so early Zayn?"

He adverts eye contact and clears his throat.

"I uh...Mason called me."

"Well," my heart is hammering away. "Is everything okay?"

"He isn't moving back home."

"Okay," my foot taps nervously. "What about it," I snap.

"Well he needs a place to stay."

It grows quiet immediately. I gulp down my apple juice and brashly throw the glass into the sink.

Zayn flinches at it shatters and I tuck my hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

There's still faint music playing from the radio and neither of us move to turn it off.

loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes  
but it's the only thing that I know  
when it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes  
it is the only thing that makes us feel alive

we keep this love in a photograph  
we made these memories for ourselves  
where our eyes are never closing  
hearts are never broken

"Thanks for ruining my glass Harry."

"Seriously?"

I shake my head in disbelief as I back away

and if you hurt me, that's okay baby  
only words bleed inside these pages  
you just hold me

He switches the radio off, furious and I grapple for the door knob.

"I told him no."

"What?"

"I told him to find somewhere else to stay. He thinks you live with me."

"Zayn I-"

He presses the heel of his hand to his forhead and I trod over to the sink to collect the shards of glass. I slice my finger on a piece and wince.

"Fuck Harry, I don't care about that anymore."

"Don't wanna screw up the disposal," I mutter.

He picks my ring up off the bar and clutches it in his hand.

"I shouldn't have gone to see him at all. I'm sorry. I thought he was in trouble-"

"I'm doing it."

"What," he breathes out desperately.

"Moving in with you."

He drops the ring accidentally and it rolls around before settling on the floor.

A droplet of blood splashes right along-side it and he meets my gaze, wide-eyed.

"I'm scared," he admits.

"Of what?"

"I always hurt you Harry."

He wets a rag and wraps it around my finger before retrieving a band-aid and carefully wrapping it around my skin.

"Now both hands have to heal. Your ring," his eyes water. "You wore your ring on that finger."

"Zayn, why are you so upset?"

I cup his face and kiss him softly before asking if he has a chain I could slip it on.

"Why would he call you so early in the fucking morning," I grumble.

"He's staying in a hotel. He phoned me asking if he could come over but you were still asleep and it pissed me off so I said no."

He saunters off and returns with a thin silver chain. I watch as he slips the ring on and I hastily put my hair in a bun.

It's one of cliché movie movements, him clasping the necklace around my neck and pulling back to smile at me.

"You would never hurt me Zayn," I whisper. "I promise you the same."

"Harry," he murmurs. "Oh my precious Harry."

And my heart tumbles in my chest as he draws me into his arms.

"We haven't talked about poetry in awhile," I grin.

"No poet could ever describe the love we have. Our poem is the most beautiful of all. It's confusing and frenzied...it's a whirlwind of stirring emotions and quickening pulses and snatching kisses. It makes me feel dizzy but it the best possible way. I don't want to-"

"How do you know?"

"What babe," he furrows his brows.

"It isn't complete. How do we know how it will end?"

My question sinks in for a moment. I can almost see the perplexity of his mind, interwoven thoughts and unanswered questions; memories and hopes and dreams and this beautiful chaos.

He doesn't know how we'll end our poem. How can anyone be sure how something ends?

"I don't know," he admits. "Let's just keep writing."

"Okay," I sigh. "But my hand is getting tired."

He simply chuckles and kisses my forehead.

I realize we haven't touched the toast but at least I didn't burn it.


	43. fear of flying

"I can go?"

She gives an exasperated sigh. "Yes you can. I'll help you pack. You need swim trucks, lots of sunscreen...condoms," she adds nonchalantly.

"Mum please. I can pack on my own. Relax. It's for two weeks. I'll survive."

"Okay love," she kisses my cheek and I let out an agitated huff.

My phone buzzes and my finger swipes across the screen.

"Hey babe."

"Oh my god Harry," he says frantically.

Oh mah god Harreh.

"Babe what's wrong? Take a deep breath."

"I can't go."

My heart sinks like a heavy stone, straight to bottom of my chest.

"Why not?"

"I've," he wheezes "never been on a plane."

"What? That's why you don't want to go? You're scared of flying?"

I can't contain my laughter but it stops abruptly when he adds

"Harry, I'm dead serious."

"Baby, it's fine. I'll be with you. You can take a nap or read a book."

"I dunno. I did pack a few books," he reasons softly.

I chuckle knowing he'll probably get through all of them on the way there and we'll have to stop somewhere to get more.

"I can jack you off."

"On an airplane? Harry, that's sick."

"Sick."

"Oi not that kind of sick. It's repulsive."

"We had phone sex. I'm pretty sure you initiated it. Do you-"

"Stop," he laughs. "I get it. M'not scared anymore. Just...just hold my hand."

He's so adorable I could cry.

"I will babe. I'll be over soon and we can head to the airport. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You hate that book."

"What love?"

"The Fault in Our Stars. I quite enjoyed it but you hate it for some reason."

"It's fucking depressing. I chucked it at my bedroom wall."

I can see it too, Zayn caught in a fit of rage over an unsatisfying ending, heaving the unsuspecting book into the air, its spine bending as it crashes into the wall.

...

"Stop squirming."

"My stomach is churning. Oh Jesus Harry, m'gonna throw up."

He squeezes his eyes shut and I laugh softly before pecking his lips.

His eyes snap open and I smile reassuringly.

"I've done this so many times. Nothing is going to happen."

"Hate flying, hate flying," he chants it like a mantra.

"Zayn," I press. "You've flown before."

"No I fucking haven't," he snaps.

"Fall is your favorite season but you're afraid of falling. Remember? Autumn leaves and falling in love. You're scared of falling and you're terrified of flying. You seem to forget that I'll always be here to catch you."

he's bright eyes  
and messy   
black hair,   
i cant help   
but stare   
as he captures   
my heart   
and my camera   
snaps a picture,   
his gaze stuck  
on the wispy  
billowing clouds,  
but we were   
already flying  
and falling  
and  
f  
a  
l  
l  
i  
n  
g  
and   
f  
a  
l  
l  
i  
n  
g  
into nothing   
but thin air

he isn't afraid  
but astonished,  
a smile reaching  
his cheeks,  
those beautiful   
deep brown eyes  
meeting   
cotton candy  
skies

"We're flying," I whisper in his ear.

"You're right...I've felt this before."

"You have?"

"It feels like when we first kissed. My heart was pounding and nothing made sense but it was...remarkable. You," he exhales. "You made me fall and you also made me fly."

"I told you it would be okay."

He smiles and leans into my touch.

"Learn me slowly please, be patient with my pages."

"Pavana. Do you know more by him babe?"

"Close your eyes."

"Must the moon be full in order to be loved?" My voice drops to a murmur, my hand caressing his cheek. "And what of the heart?"

"I just had an eargasm."

"More?"

"Please," he begs.

"Because you love the moon," my breath ghosts his skin. I don't miss the way he shivers. "May the moon remember you in waves. May you be written into the petals of a burning sun."

"Harry," he pleads.

"What babe?"

"No more poetry until we're off this damn plane."

His eyelids flutter open and I immediately notice how dark his irises have grown; how dilated his pupils are.

I play dumb, my hand resting on his knee, my thumb tracing delicate circles.

"Fuck" he says through gritted teeth, my hand moving to his crotch.

"You're hard," I chuckle.

"No shit Harry."

"Poetry. Poetry makes you hard."

He groans, his head falling onto my shoulder. I stroke his scalp and his eyes close again.

"I'm innocent. You wanted words. I gave you words."

"It's the way you said it."

"What do you mean?"

 

"With so much raw emotion. I felt that. It sent shockwaves through me."

...

"Zayn. Zayn, wake up!"

His eyes fly open. "What? Are we crashing?"

"No silly."

He grumbles and mutters something about how I rudely woke him up for no reason.

"Look babe," I nudge him gently with my elbow.

 

Twinkling little lights and the wing of the plane.

"Wow," he gasps.

I can't say much more but manage to stutter out two words instead of just one.

"Los Angeles."

"Harry," he says giddily. "Harry we're really doing this."

He squeezes my hand and an announcement comes through the speakers saying we've reached our destination.

"He left you to drown but I'll teach you how to swim."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he choruses.

"You'll be fine. The ocean isn't so bad. There are so many beautiful poems about it."

"Sea" Rudy Francisco

Today, I am a sea  
trying to make peace   
with all the wreckage  
inside of its stomach.

Hoping people   
will accept me,  
broken ships and all.

"We'll see."

"No Zayn. We're going swimming. No arguments."

He rolls his eyes before suddenly clutching onto my arm.

"What in the hell? What's happening? Oh fuck. We're going to die."

"Zayn," I say slowly, trying not to laugh. "We're landing."

"Oh. Ohhhh."

"Remind me how you're a teacher," I grin. "You know nothing."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You know I'm going to hold you to that we get to our hotel room. Then again, you're usually not quiet. I have you screaming my name."

I quickly cup my hand over his mouth, his laughter becoming muffled.

"No floaties for you mister."


	44. some sink, others float

"Steal another fry, see what happens."

"Oh, so you can steal my heart but I can't steal a french fry?"

"Shut up," he chuckles. I'll order you some damm fries."

"No," I blurt. "We should share a chocolate milkshake."

"Harry, did you agree on California just because you wanted to eat In-N-Out Burger?"

"Nooooo, why would you think that?"

"Fine but I hope you realize all of this food goes straight to your thighs."

"Or my ass, pancake."

"That's it. No milkshake."

I laugh and strain to kiss him across the table.

He sighs as he stands up. "I like your chunky thighs, I guess I'll order a milkshake."

"Chunky? Excuse you mister."

He smirks and I start to wonder if he's right. Maybe I'm getting fat. I did have to squeeze into my jeans yesterday and...

"You're bloodly perfect Harry," he says as he sits down, poking two straws into the cup.

"Well duh."

"Why are you doubting yourself?"

"I...how do you know I was?"

He looks up at me from under those long lashes and replies "because I know you and I love you. I love every inch of you."

"Zayn stop," I blush. "I'm definitely forcing you to swim now."

"Zwimming isn't my thing."

"I see what you did there," I laugh. "There's a pool at our hotel. Why don't we start with that before testing the ocean?"

"I've been in a pool before."

"Even better," I grin. "Why so nervous?"

"I...I stayed in the shallow. Mason tried to pull me to the deep end and I had a panic attack."

"Okay," I say licking my lips. "I'm not going to do that to you. We won't go into the deep end until you're ready."

...

"You're so fit," I compliment. It makes him slightly less nervous.

"Just wanna touch you," he mumbles and squirts some sunscreen onto my back.

His hands massage it in, his fingers working diligently.

"You're so pale, think you can pick up a tan?"

"Probably not."

He hums against my skin, his lips meeting my neck.

"Zayn," I moan as he nibbles on my ear.

"No swimming. Let's just make love. Come on Harry, we can have mimosas and kiss until we're dizzy."

It sounds tempting and I nearly give in.

"Nice try. Come on babe."

He groans and dips his feet in the water. I jump into the deep end and swim over to him, my ringlets drenched. I smile and splash him playfully but he isn't amused.

"Zayn," I whine.

"I'm drowning Harry."

"You're not even in the pool," I chuckle. He meets my gaze, his expression completely serious.

"This is what drowning feels like. Being overwhelmed by oxygen and hydrogen...fire in my lungs because I can't get back to the surface. I'm trying to swim back up but I just can't. I'm grasping for something. Anything. Don't let me sink, don't let me-"

"I won't Zayn. I promise. Let's just float."

"Green eyes. I can see you above the water. I want to get to where you are. Please."

"I'm diving in Zayn. I'm going to save you. It's okay. Don't cry, don't cry my love."

"M'sorry. I'm so pathetic."

He dips in further until the water is at his waist. I cup his cheeks, a smile splaying on my face.

"Not so bad huh?"

The sun is glinting on my back. It's sweltering today and the water feels so nice.

My eyes don't miss the space between his thighs, his wet thighs that sends more heat through me. My blood thumps faster in my veins. Boiling much like the hot sun.

He could bracket me with muscle, I could settle there.

"Why are you blushing babe? Pink filling in the spaces between your sun-starved freckles."

"I..." my breath falters. "Nobody has ever described my freckles that way. Swim out deeper with me."

"Harry I don't think," he stops, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the ink on my wet arm. "I want to stay right here. Descending into the water was hard enough, the water was creeping up my skin."

His fingers skim over the surface of the water. He smiles up at me and inches closer, the water sloshing.

"Thought you wanted to stay right there," I smirk.

i will wade out

"Harry," he croaks. "Why are you getting further away?"

"It's too calm in the shallow end."

He's panicking. We're too far away in his mind and he isn't going to chance it.

"Can't I just flail my arms and trash around until you swim back over here?"

I sigh, paddling back and place my hand on his back. He's stunned for a moment, the fact that he's on his back suddenly dawning on him.

"You're floating," I murmur.

"Does chlorine burn your eyes? Can it burn your throat?"

I want to assure him it will be okay, want to feel his raven black between my fingers and run my tongue along his sharp jawline.

But it hurts that his mind was so filled with worries he didn't notice the way my thumb trailed down his spine.

I relished the hest of his skin, juxtaposed with the cool water.

Soft tan skin and flexing muscles and dark furrowed brows. Unkept but tidy all at once.

"Nevermind," he breaks the silence. "You can let go."

I do and he drifts aimlessly, his head tilted back, eyes squinted.

His limbs look so relaxed it the water. He's at ease and three minutes ago he would have none of it.

On second thought his jawline could slice through the water, his gaze could part the ocean.

I get out of the water and he hardly notices.

"Harry, come back."

"Come in me."

He rolls his eyes and loses his balance, toppling, the impact of his body hitting the water causing a splash.

Little ripples make their way to me, where I'm sitting at the edge of the pool.

He swallows some of the water and starts coughing violently, struggling to breathe.

I dip in immediately. He gasps, his eyes wide in fear.

My arms wrap around him and I feel his body relax.

I kiss him until his lips are bright pink and swollen, his eyes glimmering.

"You're still here. You didn't drown."

"Yeah," he smiles.

I could pierce his back with my fingernails, leaving little crescent marks. I could pay attention to the head and suck the tip and sink all the way down the base.

Sink.

s  
i  
n  
k

He reaches up to cup my face with his wet palm and I lean into it.

His eye contact is searing. Now I'm the one that can't breathe.

How do you make your lungs start up again?

There's stubble against my skin and his mouth takes so sweet.

I'm drinking him in.

Hot and insistent mouths.

Lukewarm water against our skin.

Shivering.

He pulls a few dark curls and I moan. His tongue flickers against mine and I'm convinced he has set me on fire.

But no, I'm in a pool.

How? I swear I'm melting and my dick is so hard I can see stars.

Hot and desparate and insistent. His mouth is so assured and confident. He tugs again at my hair. I keep hoping he'll pull me out of the pool and pull off his swim shorts, that he'll wrap his lips around...

he pulls away.

His eyes are wide, alnost black with heat and flicker over my exposed chest. I bite my already swollen lip, noticing the bulge in his swim trunks.

And our mouths crash again, me laughing into the kiss. Jarring. That's how it feels, our teeth clashing and tongues battling.

It's simple plate tectonics. Skin shifting and volcanoes erupting and molten hot lava gushing under my skin.

It's pumping through my arteries. I need to dip into the water, to extinguish the fire but I can't will myself to do it.

His tongue is so quick; so familiar. My fingers roughing over his stubble, he's sinking now and doesn't even care.

We're in the deep end now.

In so impossibly deep.

His tongue flicks tirelessly against the wet inside of my mouth and all of the want is suddenly spilling out.

My lungs. I can't breathe. This must be how he felt when he wouldn't swim back to the surface.

A burning pain in his chest, starving for air that won't come. Moments away from unconsciousness.

It stops. I touch my fingers to be swollen, obscenely red lips, lashes fluttering.

I'm dazed but he's swimming.

"Zayn, you're doing it!"

"Harry," he squeals excitedly, his arms paddling. "I can swim!"

"We should celebrate. How does a margarita sound?"

"Pretty fucking good," he grins.

...

We grind against each other, trying to prove something.

wet naked bodies  
and the pressure   
of my palm  
hips pressing harder

My hand is cold against his warm skin, curled around his member because it belongs there. There's a small noise from the back of his throat, his head falling back against the wall with a thud.

The ocean can wait.

Pleasure comes in waves, who needs the tide?

He thrusts harder into my hand and I sink to my knees, pressing my mouth to his thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses. My hand moves up and down rhythmically.

I look at him from under heavy lids.

mouth trailing  
temptation,  
tongue flicking  
nudging his   
legs apart  
sucking a bruise  
into his   
inner thigh,  
breath fanning  
across his shaft  
a groan from  
deep  
in the back  
of his throat  
leaning forward,  
lips brushing  
against the head

His eyes squeeze shut and he tangles his fist in my long curls, tugging desparately.

I could tease him but his eyes open and I take his head between my lips.

A needy moan and he snaps forward.

"Your mouth is everything," he stammers.

Tight and warm and wet but I'm no expert. So I groan and shift my hips as he hits the back of my throat.

Falling in deeper.

But not drowning. Not quite.

His climax is imminent, shallow strokes and laziness hinting at me so I take note, moaning around him, reaching a hand between his legs to press my palm to his precious jewels.

He's bursting at the seams, his moans ricocheting off the walls and he slumps down, hands carding through my hair.

He pants and I smile sheepishly.

I did that.

I unraveled him.

My lips find his neck sloppily and I take his hand in mine, moving it to his crotch.

His calloused hand works at his sensitive skin and he sucks in a breath.

If we were in class that hand would be stained with ink or perhaps smeared expo marker.

I giggle as my hand covers his palm and moves it gently.

"Your laugh always changes the subject. You're addictive like sugar, cracking stupid jokes and tripping over your own damn feet. You must hate gravity but fuck Harry, I wouldn't trade you for the world."

I'm waiting for the day he'll swim from one side of the pool to the other to lean into a kiss, messy mouths and water dripping from hair.

"We should try the ocean now."

"On one condition: you promise me I'll still be here tomorrow."

"I've promised you everything already Zayn. You just have to trust me."

...

He chokes as he swallows a mouthful of salt water, his eyes watering.

The current is strong and he's terrified he'll get caught in it. We're out waist deep and I pull him close to me.

"Harry, it's freezing and...the waves," his eyes grow wide as one builds up to staggering heights, crashing against the rocks down the shoreline.

"You're okay."

I speak to soon and one crashes upon us.

I easily resurface, my heart stammering.

"Zayn? Zayn!"

I dive back into the water and his eyes are open, his jet black hair a noose around his neck. His arms are moving, his legs kicking frantically.

He reaches for my arm and I tug him back up with me. He gasps for air and I move his hair away from his face.

"Why didn't you swim back up?"

"I...I blanked," his voice quivers.

My arms envelope his trembling body. His mouth is salty but it's so good. So much better at kissing than swimming.

He's so relieved when we're back on land, I'm certain he'll kiss the sand.

But he just shivers and I catch his lips again, my tongue slipping into his mouth.

"You're okay," I murmur as I pull away.

"Still drowning in my love for you," he smiles softly, his fingers tracing patterns in the sand.

"Some sink and some drown."

"What?"

"Relationships," I clarify. "Some make it and some don't. Just because Mason left you to drown doesn't mean-"

"We should shop tomorrow. Go sightseeing or something. I'm not fond of the sea and I never will be."

"Okay," I hum in agreement.

"No more floating or sinking, just walking. Just using our feet."

He trusted me, knew I wouldn't let him drown.

And I've never loved him more.


	45. (comes) and goes in waves

*mature content

"A bookstore Zayn? We came all the way to California to end up in a bookstore?"

He pouts and tugs at my arm, pulling me to his side. His eyes roam the shelves before he suddenly breaks away from me, traveling to the poetry section. He craves words like he craves nicotine in the morning.

I admire him; the way his fingertips press tentatively to faded spines.

Soak it up, a symphony of sentences.

Battered spines, those gentle yet calloused hands pausing to pull a book off the shelf.

A shiver runs down my spine as he recites

may i feel said he  
(i'll squeal said she   
just once said he)  
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he  
how much said she  
a lot said he)  
why not said she

(let's go said he  
not too far said she  
what's too far said he  
where you are said she)

may i stay said he  
(which way said she   
like this said he  
if you kiss said she

may i move said he  
it is love said she)  
if you're willing said he  
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he  
but your wife said she  
now said he)  
ow said she

(tiptop said he  
don't stop said she  
oh no said he)  
go slow said she

(cccome? said he  
ummm said she)  
you're divine!said he  
(you are Mine said she)

e.e. cummings, I think to myself. Must be something in the name.

"Mine," my breath ghosts over his neck.

We're the only ones in here, he's wedged between me and a bookshelf, his fingers trembling. The book slides out of his hands and he turns to face me.

I pin his back against the shelf, my eyes glinting.

"you know   
the pleaures   
of poetry,  
of texture and   
translations   
from the tip  
of your tongue,  
words on your lips,  
and behind your teeth"

"Harry, I've never had an erection in such an inappropriate place."

I'm on my knees, swooping up the book he dropped. I slide it back into place, my body rutting against his as I do.

His tongue is suddenly in my mouth, his hands fisting the material of my sheer white shirt. I feel him press his mouth under my jaw and he grinds his crotch in slow cricles against me. I moan, trying to get more air, my hips thrusting back.

fevered lips  
frantic hips   
fervent fingers  
faster  
fighting for air  
flesh on fire  
fisted hair  
and tentative   
tongues

We shouldn't do this here. Well, we should at least buy an old paperback if we're going to have a heated makeout session.

"Zayn," I gasp. "W-we should go."

...

"Everyone is staring at you. You're hotter than the fucking sun."

"No they aren't," he says bashfully.

I don't miss a single glance, the giggles as young girls' gazes land on his ripped tan chest.

"Maybe they're oogling over you."

"Me?"

He chuckles as my tongue darts over the tip of the cone, collecting a few rainbow sprinkles.

"You look..." he trails off, shaking his head.

"What Zayn?"

"That's such a turn on. Everyone is probably fantasizing about that baby pink tongue of yours."

"Oh," my cheeks are on fire. "Sorry babe. My tongue can make you feel good later."

"You give me a hard on in a bookstore and proceed to lick your ice cream like-"

"Why can't you finish a damn sentence?"

"Like you're licking my vein, your tongue trailing over the underside of ny shaft."

I nearly choke on my ice cream.

Some of the off white cream drips down the cone, falling onto my thumb. I should wipe it off but I can't.

The heat from the sun is stifling and sweat trickles down Zayn's torso. His eyes burn into mine and it grows impossibly hotter, sweat collecting at the nape of my neck.

I don't have a napkin but in a matter of seconds his tongue is collecting the droplet of cream.

"You okay babe?"

"I umm...yeah."

His hands are in my hair, twisting it up into a bun. He secures it in place with a band on his wrist.

"You're so cute. What do you want to do today?"

I shrug as he snatches the ice cream from me, his tongue licking up what trickles down the side.

"You can have it," I chuckle. "You paid for it."

His free hand grasps onto mine and we stroll down the boardwalk.

"It's too hot to ride anything. We'll scorch our skin."

"Let's swim, he suggests.

"Are you serious? You want to swim?"

He nods as he finishes the ice cream cone and I capture his lips.

His lips move along my exposed neck, his wet tongue lapping up a bead of sweat.

It's gross but endearing and on second thought I don't want to swim.

pleasure comes in waves  
in waves  
in w~~~~~  
a~~~~  
v~~~  
e~~  
s~

"Zayn," I moan as he nips gently at my flesh, leaving a bite mark beind to prove I'm his.

receding waves  
and building  
surges  
that i'm lost in  
he's a man-made ocean,  
dark waves and   
darker secrets  
and pitch black hair  
but he can  
he can pull   
me under until  
i'm drowning  
wondering when  
my last breath  
will come

can you sink  
in heat   
and pleasure  
and get lost in  
four letter words  
and the i love yous  
i love you,  
i love  
i lov  
i lo  
i lon  
i long  
for you  
for you, for you, for

i'm visiting the sea  
time and time again

and swimming in it  
feeling the salt   
on my tongue,  
letting the tide  
take me away  
blue brusies  
like the ocean

blue blue blue

as he sucks  
at my neck  
wet, wet, wet  
soaked but i  
haven't dipped  
into the water

"You're wet babe."

I'm pulled out of my euphoric state, sucked back into reality.

"Just went swimming," I pant.

"I see," he smirks. "Ride any waves?"

"Is that a sexual innuendo?"

As if one cue, waves crash upon the rocks and my toes dig into the warm golden sand.

"Maybe. Are you up for it?"

"Here? On a public beach? What, are you crazy?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No babe. Just swim with me, yeah?"

"Literally or figuratively?"

His amber eyes are so...unique. Everyone talks about ocean eyes; aquamarine and crystal clear.

Blue eyes are overrated.

"I...okay."

He pulls me into the water with him and it doesn't make sense.

"What happened to your fear of drowning?"

"Same thing that happened to my fear of falling and fear of flying."

"What's that?"

"You."

We stay on the beach until sunset and the crowds of people on the shore dwindle. It grows dark and I roll next to Zayn on the sand. His smile illuminates the dark, the soft lull of the waves enough to stir the passion within me.

Zayn climbs on top of me and my breath hitches. He tugs down my swim shorts, his fingers trailing and teasing the outline of my cock, looking up at me from under dark lashes. A hiss escapes me as I trust against his hand.

His warm, familiar hand curls around my member, thumbing over the head.

The cool sea breeze hitting my exposed skin. His lips press to my pulse point, his stubble grazing over my cheek.

"Are you going to come all over my hand?"

I just might.

"Zayn please," my voice wobbles. He breathes out slowly, beautifully.

I look up at him expectantly, waiting patiently for his shorts to come off.

"Spread your legs for me love," and he kneels before me.

My cock is blushed pink, hard against my stomach. He places his palms on my hipbones, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin between my thighs, his stubble deliberately dragging. I twitch desperately, his palm drifting inwards, his thumbs skimming the side of my shaft as his nose lowers, grazing my sac making me whine in protest.

He holds his graze, rubbing circles over my hipbones before he leans down to lick a stripe from my base to my tip...leisurely. The pad of his thumb traces my foreskin, sucking and nipping, avoiding my dick purposely, pressing berry blue bruises into my shallow skin.

I work myself hard against his hand, my hips jerking erratically, my voice raspy. I'm so close to release but he takes me in his mouth, my hands fisting in his hair.

Waves of arosual wash over me and I am relentless, Zayn nearly gagging around my head. He doesn't protest or bother to stop so I thrust harder, fucking his mouth until his eyes water, releasing the ocean.

Two fingers slip in my mouth and he twirls his tongue around me, his cheeks hallowing as he moans around me. I suck on his fingers to return to favor. He lowers himself and my cock hits the back of his throat. He just continues, chasing my pleausre. Not quite ready to give in.

He lifts off with a pop and I whimper, his fingers slipping out of my mouth, circling my rim, making me moan out.

My spine bows as his finger rubs over my hole, teasing my tight muscle. His index finger presses in and I throw my head back, my eyelids fluttering closed. He circles my base and I rock back and forth back and forth, his wrist flicking, making my muscles spasm around his finger.

"So tight," he murmurs.

Just his calm voice and crashing waves, his teeth sinking into my neck.

His fingers scissor gently, his hips grinding as obscene sounds fall from my lips.

Riding his fingers.

riding waves, riding waves

His fingers twist, hitting my prostrate, making me whimper. The tip of his index finger grazes my bundle of nerves and I let out a strangled moan.

Zayn

Skin on skin contact, hips rocking shamelessly, cocks pressing together. 

I kiss him, my mouth working at a fast pace, my tongue frantic as his fingers work into me.

He sucks a bruise to the soft skin on the inside of my knee. I jerk myself off slowly, my teeth sinking into my lower lip.

"Want you to ride me babe."

Somehow we're switched and I'm on my knees, over his thighs, biting at my already swollen lip.

I sink down slowly and his hips push up experimentally. His hands encourage my hips to move, guiding me and I find a rhythm. He finds my prostate, my messy curls falling over my eyes. My hips still swivel, carving invisible patterns into his pelvic bone.

His tongue gathers the rivulets of sweat that have pooled at my collarbone. I groan throatily as our new position hits a deeper angle. He sucks messy marks onto my neck and it doesn't stop

he lets me feel tidal waves of pleasure


	46. rose pink light of dawn

kind eyes  
and disheveled hair  
up to 3 AM  
his nose brushing  
over my shoulder  
as he turns over  
in his sleep

honey eyes and  
a tender soul  
that people   
take for granted  
i love him,  
his warm soul  
and his  
beating heart

so i want  
him to  
leave me  
sappy poems   
or love letters

but never  
leave me

without a word

"Morning babe," he mumbles.

He looks so radiant in the morning light, his raven black hair disheveled, long eyelashes brushing over his cheekbones as he yawns.

"I went out and bought some bagels," I beam. He rewards me with a gentle kiss on the cheeek and my legs go weak.

"Thanks babe. I've never slept in this late."

"You're a teacher, you deserve to sleep in for once."

He looks drowsy as he slumps into a barstool, his eyelids drooping.

"We can go back to sleep, you know."

He smiles sheepishly as he smears some cream cheese on a cinnamon raisin bagel.

"Why were you up so early?"

"Felt like I owed you," I blush furiously and he chuckles.

"For what?"

I chew at the inside of my cheek and pour a glass of water, taking a nervous gulp.

"We made love Harry. Why would you owe me anything? That in itself is a gift."

My cheeks completely flush, my gaze casting down at the table. I fiddle with my fingers and he places his hand over mine, calming me immediately.

"What's wrong babe? Are you sore?"

He isn't teasing, he's completely serious, his eyes filled with concern.

"If I'm ever too rough you can tell me, don't-"

"It was perfect Zayn."

He peppers the side of my face with kisses and I giggle, my curls tickling his neck as I bury my face into the crook of his neck.

"Let's be lazy today Harry," he grins and my heart tumbles. "Tommorow we can go shopping or something...today I just want our bodies tangled in the sheets."

I hum in agreement before pulling away to take a bite out of my bagel. I smudge some cream cheese on the corner of his lip with my thumb and his tongue darts out to clean it off.

"Can't believe we've already kissed today."

"What is that supposed to mean," I frown.

"Haven't even brushed our teeth."

I roll my eyes playfully as I continue munching on my bagel.

Then it dawns on me, the pink and orange sunlight filtering through the blinds.

This is it.

Jokes about morning breath and freshly brewed coffee, my notebook flipped open on the bar, Zayn smiling softly.

Falling asleep beside him and waking up beside him.

Beginning each new day with him.

Dawn.

...

"When did you realize you were gay?"

His body is warm against mine, his cheek pressed to my shoulder as he wraps his arms around me.

"I don't like labels," he mumbles.

"Well you're attracted to guys."

"I'm attracted to you," he corrects.

I can feel my pulse strum in my neck as I mutter "you were attracted to Mason."

"Harry please," he pleads. "We were so wrong for each other. I don't know if we were ever truly in love. It was just a mixture of lust and being naive. I was so foolish then."

"Zayn...how did you know that you loved me? When did you know?"

He draws a long sigh and flips over to face me, a faint smile on his face as he tucks a curl behind my ear.

"When I realized my life wouldn't be the same without you. When I ached to see you and touch you and talk to you about motifs and symbolism. You touched me when we were both fully clothed. I don't know if that even makes sense but you touched my soul Harry...made me forget what happened with Mason. Pavana says true intimacy is the joining of two naked minds."

My dimples pop as I return his smile, my heart processing what he said.

It's harder to expose your heart than your body. It makes you vulnerable, putting your feelings out there and showing your sensitivity.

"People say you just know...when you fall in love. I think I was intimidated by you at the beginning of the year, by your eloquence and your wit, by everything. I wasn't particularly fond of poetry until you taught me to delve deeper. Then I realized that people leak their pain on paper, they write down their hurt. Things that seem simple at the surface usually contain so much meaning. You just have to know what to look for."

His thumbs trace circles in my cheeks as he captures my lips.

He pulls away and I dip back down to kiss him briefly.

"i have survived   
so many fires  
i can no longer  
tell if i'm alive  
or if i'm still  
burning"

I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He tugs at the covers and a comforting warmth washes over me.

There isn't anywhere else I belong.

"I'm burning for you. I always will."

"Harry," he murmurs. Chills run down my spine as his fingers find my scalp. "I don't question how I love you anymore, I wonder how I could ever stop."

I blink fiercely to hold back tears but it doesn't work. He pulls me impossibly closer, our legs entwining.

"Hey its okay, don't cry."

My body racks with sobs.

I don't understand.

I don't know what I did to deserve Zayn.

"Shhh," he coaxes.

Warm bullets puncturing skin, sharp knives, spewing hate and spreading lies. Starvation and pleas for salvation and tears and fears and uncertainties.

But I have Zayn and let my eyelids close, my body begging for rest.

And I realize the world isn't so bad after all.


	47. unanswered calls

"Is the print too busy?"

He snickers and I frown before glancing at the full length mirror again.

"Seriously babe? That's your style. Besides, anything looks good on you. You could made a garbage bag trendy."

I laugh and wrap my arms around him, my head resting on his shoulder.

"But it's your credit card."

"Don't care," he mumbles. "You're worth it."

"Ever made out in a fitting room?"

He shakes his head and I clutch onto the tail of his shirt, fisting it up in my hand.

"First for everything," he beams.

He turns to face me, our warm bodies pressed against each other.

"Fuck you look good in glasses."

He gives a little smirk and it drives me wild. My lips find his and my arms loop loosely around his neck. I pant into his mouth and he presses me against the wall.

It's cold and it makes me shiver but his body is feverish, his lips hungry. My heart is thudding so loud in my chest I can't hear my thoughts.

I don't care if we're not the only ones in here. It feels like there's no one else in the world.

"What do you want to do today," his breath ghosts my neck.

I'm about to respond when his teeth tug at my earlobe and I can't find words. I can't even summon any breath. A small little gasp escapes my mouth as his lips move to suck love bites into my neck. My heartbeat is erratic, frantically pounding away as he locks my arms up over my head and pulls off my shirt.

"Shhh, we gotta be quiet babe."

His hands roam over my torso and his fingers stop at my right nipple, rolling it slowly. My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I fight back a moan.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket makes him stop. He fumbles for it, his face dropping before he presses decline.

I try to pretend I didn't see the name that flashed across the screen but it's unnerving so I pull away.

"Sorry. I can't do this."

"This has nothing to do with us being in a fitting room, does it?"

I shake my head silently and he cups a hand behind my head.

We swap saliva once again and share oxygen. He's pouring everything he has into this kiss but I don't need convincing.

When he moves away he smiles gently, realizing the fragility of the moment.

"I just want you to know," he exhales softly. "There's a reason I didn't answer the call."

...

The slip of paper flitters before settling on the quilt.

Unanswered calls but never you. I always heed your call.

"Sorry," he mutters. Our fingers brush as he leans down to pick it up.

A sharp gust of wind blows my hair and it's a disheveled mess. He chuckles and tousles it more. I steal his chocolate covered strawberry just to get even.

"Never been on a picnic. Sam wasn't the type."

He frowns and takes a sip of his lemonade before scribbling something in his notebook.

I tilt my head curiously, my mischevious eyes searching his. "What are you writing about babe?"

"You. How you stole my strawberry but you're even sweeter. I'll have you know, I have quite a craving for sweets."

My lips find his and his tongue skims over mine.

Now he can have a taste too.

"There are subtle things I pick up on every moment I spend with you. How you twiddle with the rings on your fingers when you're nervous and how you run your fingers through your hair when you're feeling uncertain. How you could squirt a whole spray can of whipped cream in your mouth and not get sick."

I laugh until my sides hurt. It isn't particularly funny but he's grinning, the ocean breeze feels nice against my cheek and everything is how it's supposed to be.

"You curl your lip when you're concentrating and get frustrated when your handwriting starts to slope downward. And you hum late at night when you can't fall asleep, just a little tickle in the back of your throat."

His smile reaches the corner of his eyes and he presses his nose to mine.

"Your curls tickle me at night and sometimes you're hard," he teases. "Dreaming of me of course."

My cheeks flush as I suck my bottom lip into my mouth.

"And you're still bashful. Bashful but beautiful."

I let my thumbs rub circles along his cheekbones as I reply "You have a thing for alliteration. You're always so good with your words, know just what to say-"

He kisses me again, stealing my breath and I think to myself over and over

he knows  
just what to say,  
just what to do  
to make me lose  
my mind  
to make me delirious  
to make me high  
to send my nerves  
on edge  
to push me to  
the brink  
to make my cheeks  
flush pink  
to make my lips  
tingle,  
his name on  
the tip of   
my tongue

so good with  
his words  
and his tender  
hands  
his heart   
so gentle  
his love  
so good  
so good  
so good  
so good  
so good

"The chocolate is going to melt, better catch up on the strawberries."

He laughs lightly; bubbly.

There isn't a care in the world. No marks in red ink or lectures or lesson plans.

"That isn't the only thing that's melting."

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"You gonna answer that?"

He bites into a strawberry and shrugs his shoulders.

"Zayn," I say sternly.

"Harry," he mocks.

He lies down, his back pressing against the plush quilt. I sigh but do the same, my fingers entwining with his.

"He isn't important right now. I'm with you."

And he's here with me, his gaze landing on a sailboat off in the distance.

Everything carries me  
to you, as if everything  
that exists; aromas, lights, metals, were little  
boats that sail towards  
those isles of yours that wait for me

Neruda has a poem for everything.

Waves lick their way to the shore, lapping and ebbing back out to sea. It's a beautiful symphony, the repetition filling my ears.

There's a shattered piece of green glass partly embedded in the sand nearby. Cheap beer. A cheap person, littering in a drunken state. Zayn catches sight of it too, saying my eyes are that color.

It's intened as a compliment of course, it does look rather pretty glinting under the sun but it's broken and discarded. Jagged edges that could slice through skin.

"I don't know if that's a good comparison."

I keep expecting his phone to ring again but it doesn't.

The ocean keeps calling but his phone makes no sound.

"It sounded more endearing in my head."

He turns to face me, a smile cracking on his face and laughter spills out of me.

"Just when I praised you for being good with words, you go and say my eyes resemble a broken beer bottle."

"Oh hush," he reprimands. One last giggle leaves me before I ask

"May I read your notebook?"

And to that he gives an answer.


	48. creamer and caresses

*mature

If you came in a bottle I would drink you up, let you seep through my skin, course through my bloodstream. And if your voice was my alarm clock, the snooze button would collect dust. If you were a movie I'd sit in the front row. If there was alcohol in your walk, I would get drunk on your footsteps. Because you...you are a constellation and I was born a telescope. Until I met you, breathing was the only occupation I had ever known. I didn't have a reason to do it. Never gave my heart a reason to beat. He was a tornado in my life, destructive and leaving ruin in his wake. I guess I was a storm chaser, was always up for the thrill. But since you're a constellation, now there are stars in my eyes and galaxies in my feet. You're what I latch onto, you're all I have to hold onto, so my soul doesn't drift out to sea. You know love, I've always been so scared of the ocean.

I toss the notebook aside, with a sigh. It's still early, the sun peeking through the blinds. If I listen closely enough, I can hear the waves lapping onto shore.

He finds me in the kitchen, with a smile like the Pacific Ocean. It's just beyond these walls but he brought it inside. I want to drink the sunlight in his skin. His skin sings songs and his eyelashes are violin strings, creating symphonies when he blinks. My heart climbs my ribs like a latter as his arms wrap around me.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

But really, what does he have to be sorry for? It isn't his fault Mason keeps ringing him. And I shouldn't have snooped on his phone.

Mason: Tell me you remember Zayn

Zayn: Just stop

Mason: I found it under my bed Zayn, flicked through cover to cover. I know you meant it. Admit it.

Zayn: I am admitting it Mason. I can't deny that I had feelings for you.

Mason: I miss you

Zayn: Why didn't you try harder to keep me???

Mason: I'm fighting for you now

Zayn: It's too late

Read 7:34 AM

"Did you have a notebook for Mason?"

"Babe," he coaxes, his hands cupping my cheeks.

"I know you did Zayn."

I hate myself for crying over it but I just can't stop the river behind my eyes. I felt so special when he gave me his moleskin, said I could read the words his heart drips onto the pages.

Sea salt air and frizzy hair and stifling heat and there's a ringing in my ears. I just want to get out of here.

"I'm sorry. I can't," I feel like I can't breathe. My breaths are rugged; staggered and short I wonder what happened to all the air in the world.

"Harry," he catches my arm as I head to the door. Catches my shallow breath too. Snatches it and I heave, my fingers shaking. "Don't go."

I know why he's scared of drowning, the sensation of getting caught underneath the tide never to resurface. This is what it feels like.

"No," he exhales with some uncertainty. "You can't leave."

"Is that what you said to him? Did you plead for him to stay? Think of all those wasted words, pens that ran out of ink and here I am thinking I'm special..."

"You are Harry. Go back to sleep, come to bed with me."

I sob stupidly into his shoulder. Of course he loves me. I've always been too sensitive, scared he'll replace me. Scared that fire he had for the pretty dark skinned lad hasn't burned out. He leads me back into the bedroom and pulls the covers up around us.

"I like what you said about the alarm clock," I clear my throat, blushing.

He chuckles and kisses away my tears. 

"What can I say? I admire your voice, that bit of rasp in it when you first wake up."

My cheeks are completely flushed now, his lips finding my neck. His fingers card through my curls and I hum contently.

"I'm trying to make a scrapbook of us. I can carry your words and you can carry moments through photos."

"I like that," his smile reaches the corner of his eyes.

My tongue traces over my bottom lip but I decide I like his lips better, sucking his lip into my mouth, biting gently until they're obscenely red and swollen. His eyes darken as my fingers tug roughly at his hair. I'm on top for once, my arms bracketing his waist.

"Nice view," I grin.

"I bet," he laughs lightly.

My pale hands roam his olive skin, feeling every intake of air, skirting over his abs and ribs.

"Your hands are cold," he shivers.

"Sorry," I mumble before kissing his collarbone, my lips moving and stopping at his sensitive nipples. My tongue wets his hardened buds, my teeth grazing over them. His neck flinches as I kiss down to the flat plane of his stomach. My thumbs slip under the waistband of his underwear but I laugh as I move up off of him.

"Could I interest you in some coffee?"

"You're joking right? You gonna finish what you started?"

"Nope."

He springs out of bed, lunging forward, his fingers tickling my sides.

"Stooooppp, I can't breathe. Zayn, please stop. Zaynnn."

"Want you to beg for me more," his hot breath fans across my neck. He licks at the shell of my ear and my heart stammers.

"Please," I whimper. He's sucking love bites into my skin now.

"Want me to fuck you good?"

I moan, my hips snapping forward.

"Yes," I reply breathlessly.

"Tempted to leave you hard."

I blink slowly, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. His hips are grinding against me, the friction of our clothes cocks unbearable.

"Coffee does sound good right now. What do you think?"

His hand tucks under my boxers, his hand wrapping around my member.

"A shot of creamer."

He swirls his thumb over my tip and I swear I'm going to cream. He's choosing his words carefully. Every syllable deliberate, every movement calculated.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for doubting you, I-"

He's palming me expertly, squeezing and tugging like a pro. It's his right hand, the same hand he makes art with, jots words on paper with.

It doesn't take long for me to make a mess.

"Letting my fingers dip in your depths, letting me have just a taste."

My eyes are blown wide, my hair a messy frame around my face as he licks his fingers clean.

"Better wash your hands before you brew the coffee."

He throws back his head with laughter and I crack a small smile.


	49. unspoken words

"Give me the goddamn phone Zayn."

I startle him a bit, he shudders and the headboard slams into the wall. His skin is glistening, a thin sheen of sweat coating it. My heart has just settled down but his touch is still on me. I can still feel him.

"We just made love and you're texting him? Hand it over."

He grunts, placing it on the bedside table. "Why do you not trust me?"

"Why don't you block his number?"

"Would that make you happy?" I nod silently and he taps away at his phone.

"Consider it done."

He kisses my forehead and I nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

"I love you," I murmur into his skin.

He doesn't even have to reply. Sometimes it's the unspoken words that mean the most. His lips find every inch of my face and I giggle, my fingers scratching at his stubble as he pulls away.

It doesn't hang in the air for long becsuse his fingers lace with mine and the words slide off his tongue "I love you with every fiber of my being."

"I want to do something special for you Zayn. Come on. Get up."

He laughs at my enthusiasm as I tug him out of bed.

"Where'd you get those glasses babe?"

"They're fake," I blurt out obviously. He chuckles and my cheeks redden as I straighten them on the bridge of my nose.

"You wear them as a fashion statement and here I am wearing them because I can't read up close for shit."

I laugh as I throw my hair into a bun.

"Shut up."

He pinches my cheeks and coos, "you're so cute when you're angry."

"Get dressed cheekbones."

He rolls his eyes playfully. His hair has gotten long too and he puts it in a ponytail. I want to tug on it but that would probably turn him on and we'd be here all day.

"So I have this idea..."

"Great," he jokes. "Hope we live until tomorrow."

"I have a feeling you're going to like it. Last night I did some research."

"Research?"

"You'll see."

...

"It's just a small cafe Harry. I don't get it."

I frown, thinking it's quaint and cozy. The stage is already up and a small crowd has gathered, people buzzing and murmuring.

"What's going on?"

I hush him and order us some triangle cut chicken salad sandwiches and a fruit bowl.

A woman with frizzy auburn hair taps on the microphone, a smile on her face.

"Thank you guys for joining our annual slam poetry competition."

Zayn nearly chokes on his strawberry lemonade and I have to slap his back.

"How'd you find out about this?"

I just smirk and shrug nonchalantly. He lets every word sink in, his hands raw as he claps for each poet, the way their words sway your heart and make your breath get caught in your throat. But he doesn't expect me to find the stage, a lopsided smile on my face.

i know   
when you  
kissed him  
it wasn't   
really him.  
your lips  
touched   
but it was   
the flavor  
of someone else  
in your mouth  
a different  
feeling  
on your  
tongue  
you kissed him  
because his lips  
were convenient  
but tell me,  
what did it  
feel like  
because love  
is soft  
and his lips  
were rough  
and his hands  
were greedy  
and now  
i have   
kissed you  
enough times  
to know  
you taste like  
poetry  
i will never  
write

"You didn't," he inhales sharply, his hand trembling as he reaches for his glass. "Tell me you were performing."

"Sorry I thought-"

"How," he shallows. "How do you know his hands were greedy?"

"Were they Zayn?"

He nods but doesn't speak. It's always the words unspoken. The silence that flooded my ears before the roar of applause. What was left floating in the air.

"Sometimes I didn't even want it. I was such a pushover. I..." he wipes away a lonely tear and my heart shatters as it drops to the bottom of my chest. "Love is soft," his whisper gets lost. "Fuck Harry. Your lips are soft. Your love is soft. Dammit."

"Hey," I lean across the table, my hands cupping his face. "Leave some syllables in my mouth."

He nods, understanding my request and kisses me firmly, making me dizzy because we're in public and he doesn't give a damn. His tongue is still searching mine, soft noises hitting the back of my throat. All the poems I can never write, emotions I can't form into words, all left in a little trail on my tongue. He tastes like strawberries and pineapples and passion. His lips feel like dew on grass and the warmth of the sun on my shoulders and a light drizzle when you just want to cuddle up in a hoodie and read a book. He's starlight and nectar and the seven seas.

I can't get over it.

The taste he leaves in my mouth, the poetry he etches.

Using no words at all.

We pull apart. I'm breathless. Even if I wanted to speak I can't. My tongue is tied, my brain sticky. He can't seem to muster words either.

Nobody is even watching us. We're tucked away in a corner, near a window.

We could do it again

a  
n d

a  
g a i n

unspoken

w o r d   
s

"Thank you for this," he breaks the silence. "This was nice."

His lashes graze across his cheek as he blinks, the sun is filtering across the left side of his face. He's radiant, his tan skin glowing in the glimmering light. I want my tounge to taste him, to lap up the sunlight. It's unfortunate really, he has no idea how beautiful he is.

"You're breathtakingly gorgeous. It actually hurts to stare at you for too long."

He laughs lightly but my thumb traces over his bottom lip and the tip of his tongue finds the pad. 

"He never told you that, did he?"

He shakes his head so I tell him again just so he's certain.

"You're beautiful Zayn."


	50. movement

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I narrow my eyes at him but he just smiles in return.

"Hey mum."

I let out a sigh of relief as Trisha's voice filters through the line.

"Yeah, we're about to visit an art museum. Harry will probably snap some artsy pics. Uh huh. I know," he chuckles. "I fell in love with a hipster. He likes cold brew coffee and beanies. Can you believe it?"

I roll my eyes as he smirks over at me.

"No mum. No grandkids yet. How many? I dunno."

I hold up two fingers and his face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Twins actually. I think we've decided on twins."

I nod in confirmation and I love yous are exchanged. He promptly ends the call and hands me his phone.

"Um...I believe this is yours babe."

"Scroll through the contacts."

I sigh but do it anyway, no sign of Mason in there.

"Missing a name, huh?" He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. "I love you so much babe. Are you sure about twins though? Two kids...that's a lot."

"I think two is perfect."

"You're perfect," he pecks the tip of my nose and I giggle, squirming in his arms. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," I adjust my camera strap and he fixes his glasses.

He slips his hand into mine, clutches onto it as we stroll.

"All this art around us and you're the only masterpiece."

"You're so lame," he laughs.

He's right. I take way too many photos. Candid pictures of Zayn, abstract art, contemporary architecture and romantic ones, his lips pressed to mine.

"I don't know much about art. Obviously poetry is my speciality."

I'm trying to figure out why Jackson Pollock is so esteemed in the art world when it hits me. It's like existentialism in literature.

"The paint splatters mimic movement."

It all starts to click, the gears turning in my mind.

"Right," Zayn affirms. "It's a form of expression. It just looks like droplets of paint but there's something rhythmic about it; something deliberate."

"What's up with that?"

I point to a blocky print and Zayn squints, adjusting his glasses.

"Duchamp. I think he was part of the Cubist movement. Really off the wall stuff. Maybe he was trying to prove something."

"It's so blatant, it's like he's forcing you to accept it as art even if you can't find any value in it."

Zayn looks at me for a moment before he says "I'm in love with an artistic genius."

I blush furiously.

"I know who Andy Warhol is at least. Pop art is basically stolen from comic books but I'm not an art critic. What do I know? I'm just an English teacher."

He pouts as I laugh at him, pulling him towards the sculptures.

"I think I want to go back to school, get my Master's degree."

"Really? That's great Zayn!"

I tackle him with a hug and he chuckles, his fingers stroking my scalp.

"Ed told me about an open position at a publishing company in London, he said-"

"Where you going? Oxford?"

"Cambridge."

"Wow, so smart," I say breathlessly. "That's a long commute from London though."

"Well I think I'm going to move babe, closer to campus."

"Oh," my heart sinks. "But you just suggested I look into a job in London. That's kind of far."

"We can see each other on the weekends."

"I dunno Zayn. I'll think about it."

He kisses my cheek gently. "Good. You're really talented Harry. Don't let anything stop you from achieving your dreams."

"You're my dream."

My embrace around him tightens, as I squeeze tighter.

"Oh Harry," he sighs. "I don't have to go back to school."

"No no," I scramble for words."I want you to be happy. That's all I ask."

...

Zayn is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, his soft cheek creasing the pillowcase. His phone lights up and I'm terrified it's Mason under a different name but Ed's name flashes across the screen.

Did you talk to Harry??

I swallow the lump in my throat as I disconnect the charger and pad into the kitchen.

"Hello. Zayn?"

"Uh...it's Harry. He's already asleep. I think I should interview for that job."

There's silence on the other end of the line and he clears his throat.

"Sorry mate. The position was filled earlier today. I am terribly sorry."

I blink back tears. "No, it's okay." I try to hide the disappointment in my voice. "It isn't your fault."

"There's still some open positions you might be interested in. Same company, same job requirements."

"Really?" I grow giddy with excitement. Only for a moment.

"There's a catch."

I exhale, my fingers tugging at my curls.

"Okay..."

"It's in New York."

"New York," I repeat shakily. "That's so far."

"Well you'd just have to move."

Could I? How could I just leave Zayn behind.

"Thanks for letting me know Ed."

"You aren't interested? Not going without him, are you?"

"No."

And I quickly end the call. I slide back beneath the covers, the bed shifting under my weight.

"Shit," I mutter as Zayn stirs.

"Harry," he says groggily.

"Sorry baby," I caress his cheek. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Why were you up?"

"Bathroom," I lie.

"Oh...you seem upset."

"I'm fine."

Another fucking lie.

"Talk to me babe. I swear there's nothing between Mason and-"

"It isn't that. The position is filled. Ed called me."

"It's okay. There are plenty of other opportunities."

"He told me about something in New York. Is he crazy? Like hell I'm leaving you."

His arms wrap around me, his warmth enveloping me.

"Don't let me go."

"Don't let go or don't let you go to New York?"

"Both," I murmur into the crook of his neck.

"We'll talk about this in the morning. Get some sleep."


	51. ideally

*mature content

"It's up to you babe. Ideally I would like you to stay."

"Ideally," I scoff. "What does that even mean Zayn? He's still fighting for you. That's what he texted you. You're not even fucking fighting for me right now."

I chuck the notebook onto the bedside table and his eyes widen in fear.

He's scared.

He's scared of my doubt. He's scared I'm giving up on us when he's the one drifting away.

"I can't decide for you Harry. If your heart is in it you should take the job."

He has my heart. Or at least I thought he did. Now I'm not so certain.

"You have him to crawl back to," I hiss through gritted teeth. "If I'm in another country he can have you. That's what he wants right?"

"Harry!"

I'm trembling in rage. I just want to swing my fist, want it to connect with a brick wall.

"That isn't what I want. You know that. What has gotten into you? Babe," he murmurs.

His arms are strong and warm and safe.

"It's alright. You're okay. Just relax, yeah? I think we should go home. This trip has been hard on you. This isn't what I intended."

"I am home," my voice sounds strangled. "You're home."

His fingers massage my scalp and my eyelids flutter closed, a small whimper escaping my mouth.

"You've always had such a bad temper. Remember when I lied and told you if you got another tardy, I would make you-"

"Stop," I chuckle.

"You told me to fuck off and proceeded to put your feet up on the desk."

"Yeah well...you had wet dreams that involved fucking me over your desk."

I pull back with a smirk, thinking I've won the argument.

"Would you have been up for it?" His tongue runs along his bottom lip.

"Possibly."

He kisses me gently, so soft his lips are barely there but my hands cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss. It isn't the time to be timid. It's time to trail more poems on my tongue, time for him to make waves in my heart, ripples in my soul.

My teeth catch his bottom lip and his moan hits the back of my throat.

He's prompting me to take control, asking me to get rougher and I oblige, pushing him back onto the bed. He's all lashes and cheekbones and deep brooding looks. And more importantly he's mine. He's fire and flesh and bone all compressed. A bird trapped in a cage, fluttering his wings. I can set him free. I can make him fly.

"Did you always bottom with him?"

"Don't wanna talk about him," he mumbles.

He's beneath my body.

I tug down his underwear, my lips kissing his inner thighs before I suck love bites there. He gasps as I lick at his entrance, his back lifting up off the bed. My tongue swirls and swirls before flicking over his ring and delving in.

"Harry," he pants. I draw back, the taste of poetry in my mouth.

"It's been awhile hasn't it? Suck my fingers babe."

He doesn't question it and I feel the warmness of the inside of his mouth. So soft and so good, his tongue moistening my fingers. I pull out, his lips making a tiny pop around me. I press my finger to his entrance, stretching him slowly. He tenses a bit and gets flustered, his cheeks flushing.

"I...usually I take it better than this." He bites his lip as he adjusts and I insert another finger.

He ends up with three inside of him, hitting a bundle of nerves, my fingers flicking eagerly. He hums, his eyelids closing, head falling onto the pillow. He's so tight. I hit his spot again and again until a moan falls from his lips and sends shivers down my spine.

"Oh god Harry."

Harreh. Harreh. Harreh.

I line my cock with his entrance, there's already a sheen of sweat on his tan skin, his hair a messy halo on the pillow. His teeth sink deeper into his bottom lip as I push in.

"Jesus. Move."

I do, slow thrusts at first but his breathing is steady and he doesn't protest. So my hips find a rhythm and I quicken the pace.

Maybe I should have gone slower, started out with some foreplay, licking a stripe up his shaft teasingly, peppering him with kisses.

It's hurried and frenzied and passionate but still intimate because his mouth falls open and his heart quickens when mine does. I can feel his pulse and a strand of hair falls over his forehead. I'm quick to tuck it behind his ear and he opens his eyes.

He stares underneath my skin. He sees my inside, how his name is tangled up in my heart among poetry and kiwis and the color yellow.

And he releases as my thrusts grow lazy, completely blissed out.

I live for these moments, the ones I don't snap pictures of. The ones I tuck away in my memory. I try to remember everything, my milky white skin against his. His amber eyes and long lashes grazing his cheeks. The way his legs tremble and toes curl and a pool of sweat collects at his hairline.

I live for poetry but my heart only truly knows two poems. One about my many mistakes and one about the only thing in my life that isn't a mistake.

Zayn.

He comes. Fast and hard and when he catches his breath has already found the right words to say.

"When you choose to be a poet.  
When you choose to spill like this, bleed like this, cry like this.  
Your pain becomes an exhibit.  
A place for people to walk through and then leave when they are ready.  
No one ever asks a museum if it's okay."

"Rudy Francisco?"

He hums a yes against my skin.

This time, I draw him into my arms.

I hope he knows his arms are the one place I'm never alone. And I hope he feels the same about mine.

lonliness is a rumor   
that spreads through my bones  
i don't want to be alone  
i've poured myself into him  
he has never let a drop  
hit the pavement  
never watched me splatter  
he has made me look  
that lonliness in the face  
and it's a hideous thing  
to look at

"Mason and I never did that."

"What?"

"Made love," he whispers. "It was mindless. It didn't mean anything. I didn't even care either. Things are different with you. I feel everything so deeply. I can see a future with you, us reading poetry and drinking bitter coffee and getting up to watch the sunrise, you snapping pictures and two beautiful children making a mess all around us. When I close my eyes I can envision it all. And I want it too. I want it so bad Harry."

Ideally, that should happen.

But reality can really screw you over.


	52. golden skies and golden eyes

"Harry, I'm sorry."

"For what babe?"

He frowns and draws me into his arms. It's our last day and we both agreed watching the sunset on the shore would be the best way to spend it.

"This trip was a disaster. We should have gone to Greece or the Maldives or something. Somewhere more exotic," he adds with a chuckle.

His fingers run through my damp hair and I hum in agreement.

"More importantly, I'm sorry about Mason. I didn't think-"

"It's fine," I snap. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Okay." He whispers so softly his words get carried in the wind. I feel his body stiffen and I scramble to apologize but he reads my mind. "It isn't your fault. I should have never texted him back."

"That's in the past now."

He lets out an exasperated sigh and the sun does the same, sighing as it dips off into the horizon. 

It's golden for a moment, the sun glinting on the rippling waves. Golden, glimmering rays of light and tan skin pressed against mine.

My eyes meeting his.

Golden eyes, set aglow.

He catpures my lips, his hands locking behind my neck, tugging at my dark brown coils. The sun is still warm on my skin. He's warm. My heart is warm. Even the sand looks golden, in between my toes.

His breath is warmer still, ghosting against my skin.

"I'm so in love."

I am too, my breath getting caught in my throat. Zayn has a freckle in his eye that I'm all too familiar with and dark unkept brows and a jawline I could slice my finger on.

His heart is made of gold.

"I've hurt you before Harry.

Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay

Robert Frost. Making my heart sink to the bottom of my chest. Like plunging deep into the ocean, into the deep dark abyss.

Where wrecked ships are indistinguishable and unfamiliar creatures roam the ocean floor.

It's pitch black and the pressure is unbearable. And it's golden up there, at the surface. I'm trying to reach it but my oxygen tank is running out and my chest is so tight I want to explode.

Save me. Save me. Save me.

"Harry," he rubs my back soothingly. "Why are you crying love? It's alright. Shhhh."

But I can't. Sobs rack my body. I'm drowning in my tears and swimming in my thoughts and I can't fucking breathe.

This is surely how he felt when Mason let go, when he let him sink lower into the water. When he was gasping for air and screaming at the top of his lungs but he walked away. He left and I had to dive in for him.

Will he do the same for me?

"Harry, Harry, Harry," his arms wrap tighter around me, his soft lips finding the crook of my neck.

The sun has set. The golden tint has faded and the sky is growing dark.

I shiver as he kisses my jaw, my spine tingling.

...

"Hey Li, what's up?"

"We miss you. When are you coming home?"

"We're packing right now."

"Oh...I need to speak to you in private."

I glance over at Zayn. He's humming a tune, his nimble fingers folding shirts and tucking things into the suitcase. I slip out of the room and keep my voice low.

"What's wrong?"

"Mason is transferring. He was getting his doctorate at Oxford but he's switching mate. I swear!"

I exhale slowly, my fists clenching. I squeeze my eyelids shut and struggle to find words, finally stammering out one.

"Cambridge?"

"I'm sure Zayn doesn't know. He couldn't."

"Thanks for letting me know Liam. I'll see you soon."

"Of course Haz."

I'm not sure what to think when I end the call.

All I know is nothing gold can stay. Warm hearts turn cold and darkness replaces the sun and-

"Harry," he startles me. His arms wrap around me and he chuckles. "You ready love?"

"Yeah," I reply shakily. He kisses my cheek and carries my bag. My heart is thudding in my chest.

I can't go to New York now and let Mason steal Zayn from me.

"He's going to Cambridge," I blurt. I feel nauseated, like I'm going to vomit, my stomach churning.

"What," he knits his brows together, perplexed. "Mason?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, unable to form letters into sentences.

"Did you know Zayn? Tell me you didn't."

"What do you mean Harry? Are you crazy?"

"Do you think I'm making this up? Don't fucking lie to me," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm tired of this."

"Of what? When have I ever lied to you?"

There's rage in his eyes that I've never seen. An anger so intense and unwavering I stumble back. My body trembles but he moves closer, his brows still furrowed, the veins popping in his neck.

"Do you think I would hide things from you Harry?"

"I...I don't know," I reply hoarsely. "You're scaring me Zayn."

"No," he whispers.

"What?"

"No. No, no, no," his eyes sear into mine and soften at the edges. "I said I wouldn't do this. I said I wouldn't hurt you again, I-"

His thumb swipes over my wrist, where my scars have faded under the sun.

"Am I going to lose you? Harry," he gasps for air. "Please don't leave me. Don't be like him, don't," his voice cracks. "Maybe I've always been a monster. Maybe I'm the reason he left. I hate this. I hate myself."

I pull him into my arms, terrified of what is running through his mind.

"I'm not going anywhere Zayn. You know I love you."

All I can do is hope that my words are comforting; some sort of consolation.

But I've learned words can't heal all wounds.


	53. turbulence

"Harry, what's going on," he asks groggily. I push some hair out of his face and peck his cheek.

"Just a bit of turbulence babe."

He sighs and closes his eyes. Now I know why he has aerophobia. The sky is slate gray and the plane is shaking. I'm talking jolting movements.

I lurch forward in my seat and his eyes grow wide in terror, his clammy hand grappling for mine.

"Oh my god Harry. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my," he's wheezing. There's a baby crying. Piercing shrieks that make my ears ring. "We're going to die. This is how we'll die, w-we," he chokes on a sob. His words are caught in this throat and I want to assure him but the flight attendant can't cover the panic in her voice and there are shouts on the intercom.

So much for staying calm in case of an emergency.

"It's okay. It's okay," I exhale.

Everything stabilizes. My mind stops spinning. Zayn squeezes my hand one more time, his knuckles white.

"Harry," he bites down on his lip so hard he draws blood. Tears stain his cheeks. "This whole trip was a disaster. I'm so sorry. I'm so-"

I cup his cheeks and kiss him gently, the rain pelting, droplets violently plunging all around us. Traveling from such great heights to collide with unforgiving pavement, strikes of lightning illuminating the sky.

Everything with Zayn has been turbulent. I've been struggling to catch my breath for weeks now. 

The silence in the plane strikes me to my core. It was so loud just a moment ago. Now I can hear my heart thudding and Zayn sniffling and I want to scream at the top of my lungs. It's pouring inside my heart now. The tip of my finger collects Zayn's tears and the rain doesn't let up.

My head is pounding and I can't hear my own thoughts over that steady thud thud thud. It strums like a drum, the beat constant, my pulse in my throat.

Now my mind is wandering back to thoughts of Zayn's bed. Crumpled sheets and creased pillows and his arms around me.

I know Mason has been under those sheets, his body entangled with Zayn's and I want to throw up.

Pounding, pounding, my stomach churning. I force my eyelids closed and clamp my hand over my mouth. I can't. Not here. Not now.

I'm starting to hate planes as much as Zayn.

He should feel like home. I should be giddy with excitement.

On the inside I'm screaming at him. He won't listen to me.

Can he hear me?

Zayn. Zayn, I plead. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me dammit!

I still can't muster any breath, words won't fall from from my mouth. Syllables won't slip past my lips, glide off my tongue. I'm so scared he still wouldn't listen.

Listen to me explain my fears.

He was afraid of flying. Of flying and falling.

I am too. Because I've been falling since I first laid eyes on him.

And eventually I'm going to crash. We're both crashing. We're going to...

A nose dive, the plane dipping and the roar of people talking and shouts deafening again.

My heart is hallow. It's empty, the silence echoing inside my ribcage, ricocheting off my bones.

"Just kill me now," Zayn mutters. "Just let me die here. Let me die now with Harry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

My stomach tightens; clenches up like an angry fist. This is more than a bad trip. This is more than a failed vacation and a rough flight. He is blinking back more tears.

"Or just spare Harry. Just let him live. He's so young. God please."

There's a hurricane in my heart, everything I've ever felt whirling around like debris, puncturing my heart.

"I lied. I lied. I lied," he gasps. "Kill me," he screams.

People don't notice his irrational behavior. Arms are flailing and luggage is sliding in the overhead compartments and that baby won't stop crying.

He cups his hands over his ears and I look around for a barf bag. My head is throbbing. Someone is hammering it. Pounding as hard as they can and my heartbeat is erratic again. So rapid I fear it will stop.

"I knew," he trembles. His voice is unsteady. It doesn't even sound like him.

And my heart is unsteady. The plane is unsteady.

Tumultuous.

I keep praying a window will shatter. That glass will slice my heart. That the plane will suddenly drop from the sky. That we'll crash and the whole thing will go up in flames.

Wait, no.

Nobody else needs to die.

Just me. Just me. A sudden death. Anything is better than the slow death I'm enduring now. I'm bleeding out.

"I hate myself," he lets out a strangled sob. "I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself for lying. I didn't think he was serious. I thought he was lying."

I'm torn. I can't walk away. He needs me. He loves me. I can't be like Mason. I can't just leave him.

But I can't stay either. I can't torture myself this way.

The warmth of his skin and those silken sheets and the softness of his lips and hushed poetry in the dark of night.

And bitter lies. Like swallowing a putrid pill.

Pills. Sedatives. And scars.

"Don't hate me. You're all I have. She's dying Harry."

"What," I reply breathlessly.

"My mum. The cancer came back with a vengeance. She has two months tops. She...god Harry, why not me? Why her? Why? It's so unfair."

"No," I murmur.

And I swear in that moment we do fall from the sky. We fall from such great heights. He clings to me the way his tears cling to his lashes.

"I'm not afraid of dying Harry."

"Don't say that Zayn. Please."

"I can't do this anymore. I can't," he stammers.

We stagger forward once more, my head whipping back against the seat. My eyes snap closed. I'm trying to steady my breathing.

And again, the plane rattles, my head hitting the window. I want it all to subside. I just want to land. I want this to end.

I've made up my mind. I'm not leaving Zayn.

I'm not.

The impact of my head knocking against the window shocks me, pain shooting through my body, my vision going black.


	54. tears and trauma

"Harry," he wipes the tears from his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I love you."

I want to say it back but he's unfamiliar to me. There's a keen softness in his honey colored eyes.

Kindness that makes my heart warm. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles as he recites a poem.

Do not feel lonely,  
the entire universe is  
inside of you.

"Rumi Harry. You love Rumi."

I give a blank stare and a deep frown sets on his face. I feel guilty for making him sad.

A beach blonde lad peeps in the room. "Hey Har. I'm glad you're okay. We were all so worrried."

I just nod, grateful for his concern.

The tan skinned guy is so beautiful, when he kisses my cheek my heart flutters. I suddenly feel so weak. I don't question it.

"You still seem a bit out of it. Everything will come back to you soon. You'll probably be mad at me and that's okay," he laughs nervously, his fingers running through his soft black hair. "You have every right to be."

"I'm angry at you?"

He knits his brows together and the pale boy with crystal blue eyes shrugs.

"I'm sorry," I whisper softly.

"It's okay babe."

Babe? Babe. My body relaxes a bit as his thumb swipes over my hand.

"I'm never getting on a plane again. But I don't mind the ocean."

He smiles and my heart stutters once again.

There's a chain around my neck with a ring slipped on it. My hand clutches onto it, my eyes focusing on an identical necklace around his olive neck.

A promise ring. I bite at the inside of my cheek. Think Harry. Think.

I know him. I know him. I do.

But then again I don't.

"Liam and Louis are out in the hallway. Li called your mum. Her and Trisha are on the way."

So many names to keep up with.

All I want to remember is the dark skinned one. The one with the long eyelashes and baby pink lips and a striking jawline.

"Zayn," the boy with the Irish accent grabs ahold of his hand.

"Zayn," I mumur to myself. It feels right. It sounds nice. It sounds shivers down my spine. His eyes are wet with tears but he cracks a small smile, his face lighting up as the sound hits his ears. 

He must like the way his name rolls off my tongue too.

They speak in hushed tones but the conversation ends abruptly as the doctor walks in. He looks somber, his gaze downcast. He's avoiding Zayn, adverting his eyes and clears his throat.

Everyone looks so damn sad.

The walls are a sterile white and the linen sheets are heavily starched. The room itself smells like pungent lemon cleaner. It's so racid I want to throw up. There are fresh flowers in the vase beside me.

"Brain trauma," I repeat the doctor's words slowly. I don't like the taste of it in my mouth. I want to spit it out, take those words back.

"What," Zayn clutches at his chest. "What are you saying?"

"Brain damage. Memory loss."

"Fuck. Fuck," he yells.

It grows eerily quiet. I can hear my heart ticking.

"I want him back. I want my Harry back." He's shouting at these walls. He's shouting at the man in the white lab coat, shouting at the lad with reddened cheeks and aquamarine eyes. He's shouting at God, cursing his name.

"Zayn," I say hoarsely.

He stops and turns to me, tears streaking down his face.

"It'll be okay."

It isn't very reassuring but he nods his head and swallows.

"Harry," he murmurs. "It's me. It's Zayn." His gentle fingers brush through my hair. "I'm your boyfriend. Say you remember."

Boyfriend.

"You're beautiful," I whisper.

Big mistake. This makes him cry harder, his hand clutching mine. There are faded scars on my wrist and I wonder why I was so sad, what would make me hurt myself like that.

"Don't cry."

"I love you so much. I know you're uncertain. This must be so crazy for you. I know you're confused but believe me."

"I do. I trust you," I whisper.

"You like poetry and chocolate chip pancakes. You like the sound of rain and the noise crisp pages make when you turn them. You like telling shitty jokes but I laugh anyway. Your laughter makes me dizzy and your dimples make my heart dance. You like dancing," he adds with a chuckle. "I'm terrible at dancing. I always step on your feet. You're so incredibly talented, good with your words. I was your English teacher," he smiles. "You are still my favorite student. My favorite everything. I kept all of your assignments. I wrote you a journal. I bookmarked all of my favorite quotes, all of the lovely things you said. I stored them in my heart, embedded them deep inside my memory. I know you can't remember but I'll help you remember. You're a good photographer too. You take so many polaroid pictures," he grins. "You order frilly drinks from Starbucks but I like my coffee black."

It's so much to take in. I try to let it trickle in slowly, filter into my brain, seep into my skin.

Piece by piece I'm stringing things together.

Flashes of us. Not much but enough. Enough to make me say "I think I remember Zayn."

"I love you," he tries again.

"You've said that three times already. I can remember that."

He laughs lightly; brightly.

"That's such a Harry thing to say."

"I can think of something else he would say."

"What's that love?"

His voice. Those words. Surely he's said them a thousand times before.

I can vaguely remember them, murmured late at night in the dark.

"I love you too."

"I haven't lost you. I'm not going to. I'm not giving up on you ever. I'm not giving up on us."

"Can we fall in love all over again? Can you teach me everything there is to know about us?"

"Yes," he smiles. "I am a teacher after all."


	55. departure

I want to stay with Zayn so badly. But what does he expect? For us to suddenly rekindle our spark? I'm searching so deep, searching his eyes, scraping the bottom of my soul. There are holes in my memories and glitches in my heart.

It's time for me to start over again. To open to a new page. To forge new paths, describe new adventures. Let it flow until I run out of ink. Spilling my heart out on pages.

It's sad, trying to summon memories that won't come. Lost love and forgotten poems.

Sleeping next to him hurts too much, makes my heart weep. I want to remember what we had. I don't want to do it all over again. It should have never been disrupted. Our love was strong. Our bond was unbreakable. Or so I thought.

"I know what I want Zayn."

"You don't want me," he sobs. His body is shaking. In fear, in rage, in confusion.

I feel a pang of regret but he's still so much of a stranger to me. I need time to remember. It won't just suddenly come rushing back to me.

"You're just like him," he screams.

"This isn't my fault. I never asked for this," my throat tightens as tears well in my eyes, surging out like a dam breaking.

Open the floodgates.

"Just take the fucking job," he spits. "I don't even care."

"Zayn," I try to reason.

"I was your dream. You're my everything. You were my everything."

Tears blur my vision. All I hear is a grunt and glass shattering. My ears are ringing. Blood is trickling, collecting in a pool on the floor.

"Oh god," his eyes blow wide in terror. He's scared of himself. "Harry," he cries out.

And he falls to the floor. A crumpled mess. Wet lashes, a bloody fist, disheveled hair.

Wild, wild eyes. Deranged. Untamed.

"You're right," he swallows thickly. "You should go. Please," he begs.

It's pitiful. He pleads with his eyes. I can't take it. 

I threw up on a rug yesterday. Had a seizure. Kept him up all night.

He spilled tea everywhere, was trembling so much I thought maybe he was having a seizure too. He couldn't stand seeing we that way; so weak, so helpless.

It's too hard on him. It's torture. I'm hurting him. He's hurting me.

My head is always throbbing. I'm in excruciating pain.

He's stealing my pain killers.

I'm stealing his time.

I stole his heart a long time.

It's time to give it back.

My mum cries and cries and cries until my shirtsleeve is soaked.

Tearful goodbyes from familiar faces.

Soft chocolate brown eyes.

Piercing blue eyes and sandy hair.

Bleach blonde hair and red cheeks.

Fiery ginger hair and colored tattoos.

I can't stare at him for too long. He's long lashes and jet black hair and honey colored eyes and a sharp jawline. He's chiseled but soft at the edges; has a smile that could illuminate even he darkest of nights.

He's soft pastel pink lips.

He was mine once.

I've kissed those lips before.

"Just leave," he spits bitterly.

It's like the words are poison in his mouth.

His tone is venomous.

But he still drives me the airport, taps nervously on the steering wheel, mutters something about me getting on another airplane.

There's a bandage wrapped around his wrist but he still offers to carry my luggage, doesn't make eye contact with me, just lets his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

"You're chasing your dreams," his voice cracks. "I just know you're going to be successful Harry. Be sure to send me a signed book," he adds lightly.

And he chuckles.

I smile at the change in his demeanor and he cups my face, his lips capturing mine. It's so frenzied, so hungry, I'm chasing his lips, his tongue is trailing over mine. He's tugging at my hair with his good hand. My heart is pounding.

He's desperate. Craves just one more taste.

It triggers something deep in my memory.

I want it too, I ache for it.

For a brief moment.

I can remember everything for that one fleeting moment.

But then he pulls away and that passion is gone, like turning off a switch. And all memory fades.

His gentle touch is lost.

"I love you Harry. I always will. I know this is what's best for you."

I'm suddenly so exhausted. So forlorn. So dejected.

And I allow myself to breakdown, to drench his shirt. He rubs my back soothingly.

"I love you too Zayn. I do. We just need to figure things out. You deserve to be happy."

"We will. Everything happens for a reason."

He clutches onto a journal. It feels important, like it has some sentimental meaning. He gives it to me and then unzips my suitcase, his eyes flicking over a scrapbook. I think he's going to keep it for himself but then carefully tucks it away and zips the bag back up.

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

"So cliche," I joke. He laughs, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Never stop writing. You've left so much unwritten but what you started was beautiful. You're beautiful," he emphasizes.

"I should promise that I won't forget about you but in a way I already have."

And with those words he lets go.

Lets go of what we had.

Lets go of the grief I've caused him since the accident.

I'm emotional baggage, as heavy as my packed up suitcase.

My heart feels unbearably heavy too.

And as fucked up as it sounds given my circumstances, when I step on the plane a wave of relief washes over me.


End file.
